


Life in Balance

by Trumpeteer34



Series: Prompt Fills [9]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bisexuality, Consent, Dating, Discussions of sex, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gymnastics, Halloween, Hulkeye - Freeform, Kid Fic, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Single Parents, Slow Build, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:15:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 92,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3825322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trumpeteer34/pseuds/Trumpeteer34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint gets roped into helping Natasha with her Saturday morning children's gymnastics class. Then he meets one of the students' sweet, gorgeous father, and he finds himself roped into something bigger.</p><p>Fill for a prompt on the <a href="http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/19994.html?thread=47639834#t47639834">kinkmeme</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Clint asked as he set up the next mat. It was before nine o’clock on a Saturday morning, a time he normally spent blissfully asleep. Yet here he was, at work before nine o’clock on a Saturday morning, helping set up the gym for the morning gymnastics class.

Natasha rolled her eyes and helped him carry the next mat across the gym. “Because Darcy had her wisdom teeth pulled yesterday and is drugged out of her mind, and I promised you brunch after class, and you have never been able to turn down free food.”

“What is the age range of this class again?” Clint inquired as they dropped the mat into place. He paused to glance around the gym, where the balance beam was set up and lines of tape were laid out upon the mats, all ready for use.

“It’s my youngest class. Three to six,” Natasha replied, coming to a stop at Clint’s side. 

As she started pulling her bright red hair back into a short ponytail, Clint turned a look over at her. “You want me to teach toddlers,” he said blandly, “at nine o’clock in the morning.”

Natasha finished tying up her hair and patted his bare arm. “They’re not all toddlers,” she rejoined before she went about stretching.

Clint watched her for a moment longer before he sighed and followed suit. 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t done classes with kids before. Aside from being a personal trainer at SHIELD Gym (he had never learned the meaning behind the name, something he had never told his boss), he was the archery instructor for all age groups. He wasn’t a stranger to teaching kids, though his students tended to be a bit older, with his youngest being right around nine years old. He wasn’t used to teaching kids three times younger than that.

But he had been promised breakfast, and more importantly, Natasha had needed a hand. He couldn’t turn her down.

So right before nine o’clock, the first of the students for the morning’s lesson began to appear with their parents. The first was a little girl, probably six, with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and dressed in a sparkly blue leotard. Promptly following her were a set of twins, a boy and a girl, who must have been at the bare minimum of the age requirement. 

As the twins began running wildly around on the mats, Clint felt himself begin to tense with nerves. He wasn’t meant to handle children this young.

Once nine o’clock hit, Natasha rounded up the kids with frightening efficiency and somehow got them sitting in neat little rows to stretch. There were fourteen kids in total, split into two rows of seven. 

The children settled when Natasha clapped her hands together. “Good morning, class,” she greeted them.

“Good morning, Ms. Romanoff!” the kids replied in chorus, some of them simply saying the phrase and others shouting it in excitement.

Natasha smiled at them and then turned toward Clint, who was standing awkwardly next to the balance beam. “Class, Ms. Lewis couldn’t join us today, but I have a very special friend with me who is going to assist.” She curled her index finger toward Clint in a _get over here_ way that he couldn’t possibly ignore. 

After taking a quick breath and slipping into his teacher mode, Clint stepped across the mat and joined Natasha at her side in front of the class. 

Natasha smiled again and let her hand rest on his shoulder. “Class, this is Mr. Barton.”

“Good morning, everyone,” Clint said with a wave.

Immediately, the kids shouted back in unison “Good morning, Mr. Barton!” Ugh, he would never understand where children got their energy from this early in the morning. Probably sugary cereals, which sounded really good right now.

With the introductions out of the way, Natasha led everyone through the stretches. Clint didn’t even have to receive a death look from her before he followed along. The full group then went through practicing somersaults, which most everyone performed well—though he did have to jump in and redirect two kids before they could somersault straight into one another. It was too early for tears.

“Okay,” Natasha began once everyone was no longer dizzy and giggly, “now we’re going to split into two groups. Today, we’re going to work on our cartwheels and balancing on the balance beam. Mr. Barton,” she said, turning toward him, “would you like to handle the balance beam?”

“Don’t trust me with my cartwheels?” Clint asked with a grin. The kids immediately “ooh”ed, like they were expecting a fight of sorts.

Natasha merely quirked an eyebrow. “I know you can cartwheel just fine,” she replied smoothly with a growing smirk, “but I know your balance could use some practice.”

As the girls in the group “ooh”ed again, Clint barked a laugh. “Okay, fine,” he replied. He turned to the group of children. “Who wants to join me on the balance beam first?”

Before the class could descend into chaos with the kids having to choose which group to join, Natasha split the class. 

Clint led his group of bouncing children over to the balance beam. “Okay,” he began once they were there. “While you’re waiting for your turn, here’s what I want you to do.” He pointed to a series of lines of tape that he had put down on the mats earlier. “See these lines? I want you to focus _super_ hard on walking along these lines, like this.”

He raised his arms to either side of his body and proceeded to walk the line of tape like it was a tightrope. “Make sure you stay on the tape, now,” he said when he got to the end and twisted around on his toes to look at the class, who was watching him in awe like he had actually walked across a tightrope with a fifty foot drop. “And when you feel like you’re ready, we’ll try it on the balance beam.”

When a handful of kids cast nervous looks over at the beam, which stood over many of their heads, he gave them a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry if you don’t feel ready for it. We’ll do what you are comfortable with. I’m not gonna force you to do anything. ‘Kay?”

The kids looked relieved and started going about tight-roping across the lines of tape. As they stumbled down the lines with the kind of coordination he remembered seeing friends have when they had had a few too many drinks in college, he turned his attention down the gym. Natasha was guiding her set of children through the basics of a cartwheel with the kind of patience he only ever saw when she was teaching. 

He wondered how she had ever developed that kind of patience.

“Mr. Barton?”

Clint glanced back around at the sound of his name and looked down at one of the little girls in his group. She was a little thing, maybe four years old, dressed in a leotard made up of purple and green swirls. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, but little wisps had escaped and were resting in little waves around her face and ears. She had the bluest eyes he had ever seen on a child.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Clint asked as he knelt down in front of the girl. 

“I’m ready to try the beam,” she said, determination in her deep blue eyes.

As the rest of the group all immediately abandoned their task of practicing to crowd around the balance beam, Clint gave the little girl a bright smile. “Alright then,” he said, “let’s give it a try.”

They walked to the end of the balance beam, where the rest of the kids had gathered. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Clint asked.

“Chrissie,” the girl replied. Now that they were in front of the beam and in front of the rest of the class, she looked a little nervous.

Clint turned to the rest of the group. “Let’s hear it for Chrissie!” he said, and the group immediately burst into encouraging cheers and stirring applause. 

A surprised smile crossed the girl’s face, and she turned back to the beam with that same fierce determination from before. “Okay,” she said with a firm nod.

The group settled down into anxious anticipation as Clint gently picked Chrissie up and set her on the beam, holding her steady until she had her footing. “Remember,” he said softly just for her to hear, “if you feel scared or want to stop at any time, I can set you down. I’ll be right here the whole time.”

Chrissie glanced down at the mats below and quickly looked away. She gripped his hand for a moment longer before she nodded.

Clint waited until she let go before he took a cautious step back, keeping his hands raised to catch her if she started to teeter. “Whenever you’re ready, Chrissie,” he said, low and encouraging.

She took a moment to just stand on the beam, balancing all by herself before she took a cautious side-step forward. She wobbled for a moment, triggering a collective gasp from the other six kids watching, but she caught herself and straightened up. Exhaling a shaky breath, she focused on the beam again and took another step. 

In starts and stops, the little girl crossed the beam. As she started to reach the end, a pleasantly surprised and triumphant smile started to appear on her face, like she hadn’t thought she could really do it. 

When she ran out of beam to cross, Clint held out his arms from his body. “Now do this,” he said with a wide grin. As Chrissie grinned back and did as instructed, Clint carefully picked her up. “And for the dismount.” He raised her high and set her down on the mat with flourish. “Now do this,” he said, giving a little hop and raising his arms gracefully over his head like he had seen Olympians do on TV at the end of their routine. “Ta da!”

Chrissie straightened and held her arms up, hopping and shouting “Ta da!” in a delightfully ecstatic exclamation. 

The other kids of the group immediately burst into cheers and applause.

The breathless happiness on the kid’s face made Clint grin, and he could see why Natasha liked teaching these kinds of classes. It was like experiencing the happiness one of his students felt the first time they hit a target with an arrow. There really was no better feeling.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Chrissie called as she twisted toward the bleachers where the parents were sitting. “Did you see?!”

Clint followed the little girl’s focus and immediately almost swallowed his tongue. The man on the bleachers had the same dark hair as the girl, but with a dusting of grey at the temples and throughout his wavy curls. His choice of clothing gave him the appearance of a frumpy professor, button-down shirt with khaki slacks and a well-loved jacket. He couldn’t be sure of the man’s eye color from where he was standing, but Clint would guess they were a deep brown. The guy was giving the kind of polite clap one would see on a golf course, but the loving adoration and fatherly pride on his smiling face made that clap the most thunderous applause one could ever hope for.

Dear lord, the man was _gorgeous._

Clint almost didn’t hear the next little girl say she was ready to try the balance beam over the beating of his heart in his ears. Hoping not to be caught staring, Clint got back to work, though he stole glimpses of the man when he could. 

The rest of the class passed by in a blur of helping kids cross the balance beam and stealing carefully timed looks over at the man on the bleachers. Every time he glanced over, the man was watching his daughter with the cutest little smile on his face. While the other parents were chatting with each other and glancing over at their kid occasionally, this man was only ever focused on his child, and something about that made something in Clint’s chest warm.

The class started to wrap up, and Natasha called the group of kids back together to some cool-off stretches. “Now before you leave,” Natasha began as she led the children through the next stretch, “I have something to give to your parents, so make sure you stop by before you all leave today.”

Clint almost pulled something with how fast he twisted and looked over at her. “I’ll help,” he immediately offered.

Natasha glanced over at him with a curious and slightly suspicious look on her face, but she seamlessly guided the kids into one last stretch. “And Mr. Barton will help,” she said. 

She rose gracefully to her feet and everyone else followed. Once everyone was standing, Natasha gave them a brief smile. “Alright, everyone. Dismissed.”

And with that, the kids immediately broke into sprints toward their parents, all of them shouting all at once about how Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Barton had something to give them.

Clint watched the stampede of kids aged three to six and then peered briefly over at the man Chrissie was running to. The man only ever seemed to have eyes for his daughter, and it was adorable to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s father gently caught her little hands and listened as she talked to him and hopped in place. Another one of those gorgeous smiles crossed his face, and—

“You alright there, Barton?” Natasha asked softly as she moved past him, giving him a light punch in the arm as she walked by on her way to her bag sitting at the foot of the nearby wall.

Clint pulled his eyes away from the man and glanced over at his friend. “What, me?” he asked innocently. “Yeah, I’m great. Super. Perfect, even.”

Natasha didn’t pause in her walk, but she did turn a questioning look back at him over her shoulder. _“Super?”_ she repeated dubiously as she pulled a manila folder out of her bag. She approached again and studied him for a short moment when he didn’t respond with anything other than a lopsided grin. 

Finally, after rolling her eyes, she swatted him lightly on the head with the folder before thrusting it into his arms. “Hand out the flyers as they walk out,” she ordered him.

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff,” Clint replied dutifully, grinning and ducking away when she swatted at him again with her fist.

Together, they walked across the gym to the exit, where the first family was waiting to head out. The flyers were apparently for a presentation of all the skills the kids had gained since the class began. It was basically to encourage extended family and friends to come in next Saturday to see them perform.

Clint obediently handed the form to the parent or guardian as Natasha explained what was happening next weekend, and then he proceeded to make faces at the kids until they were giggling.

He was waving after the twin boy and girl toddlers as Natasha greeted the next family. “Chrissie! You were wonderful on the beam today.”

Stomach suddenly flipping, Clint whipped back around and immediately met Chrissie’s father’s eyes. Oh god, they were a deliciously deep brown, like chocolate, friendly and unspeakably _warm._

He felt his heart beat hard in his chest.

Chrissie smiled radiantly up at Natasha. “Thank you, Ms. Romanoff,” she replied happily. She turned her smile up at Clint. “And thank you for helping me, Mr. Barton!”

Clint reluctantly tore his eyes away from the man and glanced down at the kid with a smile. “You don’t need to thank me, kiddo. That was all you.”

As the little girl smiled, adorable and bashful all in one go, a huff of warm laughter came from her father. “Well,” the man said, glancing away from his child and meeting Clint’s eyes again, and Clint had to remember how to breathe, “ _I’d_ like to thank you for helping her.” He paused to lightly ruffle his daughter’s hair, making her giggle and dodge away behind her father’s legs. “You were wonderful today, honey,” he said lovingly. His voice was so gentle.

When he met Clint’s eyes a third time, Clint could really only stare, getting lost in the warmth and love in his eyes. It took Natasha softly clearing her throat before he remembered the folder in his hands. “Oh, right,” he murmured to himself as he pulled a sheet from the top of the pile and handed it to the other man. 

As the father took the paper with a warm and amused smile, Natasha went on to explain the event next weekend. The man pulled a pair of glasses from the inside pocket of his jacket and slipped them on, and Clint tried hard not to stare.

Once she had finished, the man looked up from the sheet and looked at Natasha. “We’ll be here,” he said. His gaze moved over to Clint and he smiled again, and Clint couldn’t help but smile back in what he hoped wasn’t a foolish or completely love-struck manner. “Thank you again, Mr. Barton,” the man said before he glanced down at Chrissie. “Say good-bye, honey,” he instructed with loving care.

Chrissie reappeared from behind his legs, smiling happily up at her gymnastics teachers. “Bye bye!” she said with an enthusiastic wave as she and her father walked off.

Clint and Natasha both waved at the pair, and Clint swore the man glanced back at him once before they were out of the gym and into the Saturday morning sunshine.

He stared after them, watching as the two joined hands to walk across the parking lot, before a jab to his shoulder brought his attention back to the inside of the gym. “Ow,” he protested, turning and looking down at Natasha, but her attention was on the final family leaving for the day. He obediently handed the set of parents the informational slip of paper and made faces at the kid, but his mind was elsewhere.

Once everyone was gone, Natasha turned a look over at him. “Are you still suffering your early morning blues, or are you distracted by something else?” she asked, and though her tone was knowing, her face gave away nothing.

Fighting down the heat that wanted to warm his cheeks, he handed over the empty folder and promptly turned away to start tearing up the tape from the mats by the balance beam. “Do you think Darcy will be in shape to help out next week?” he asked without turning around, hoping he sounded casual.

“Are you volunteering?” she asked smoothly.

Clint thought about that last parting glance Chrissie’s father had given him as they had walked off, and of the little warm smiles that had touched the man’s full lips. “Maybe,” he replied. “This doesn’t mean you’re getting out of brunch today, though.”

When she didn’t answer, he twisted a look over his shoulder to find her staring at him, that same knowing look in her eyes. There was a slight smile on her lips. “Okay,” she said simply as she sauntered over like she owned the gym.

Rolling his eyes, he lightly nudged her with an elbow and then quickly dodged her fist. Together, they cleared away the class materials, but Clint’s mind was already on next Saturday morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

“Alright, c’mon, boy.”

From where he was lying on the rug, Lucky merely opened his right eye to look over at Clint. 

As the dog closed his eye and let out a long breath that signaled he was going back to sleep, Clint reached over to play with his dog’s ears. “Oh, no,” he protested. “You’re not allowed to make me get up on my lazy days to go outside without expecting some vengeance in return. Up.”

With another long-suffering sigh, Lucky got up off the rug and stretched. 

“Good boy,” Clint said, attaching the leash to his collar. 

It was a gorgeous Tuesday. Since his one o’clock appointment had cancelled, Clint didn’t have to report in to the gym until two that afternoon, so he had some extra time to enjoy the sunlight and warm early September day while he could. Lucky, now that he was awake, was enjoying the fresh air, too, happily leading the way as they followed the same path they took every day toward the park.

As they were walking, he started to think about his upcoming shift, which inevitably led to him thinking about the coming Saturday, when he would get a chance to see that gorgeous man again. 

He was startled from his thoughts by the excited shout of his name. “Mr. Barton!”

Clint glanced over and immediately felt his heart begin to pound in his chest again when he saw the very man he had been thinking about. The man and his daughter were walking down a different path that was about to join the one Clint was walking down, and good god, the man looked _good_ today. He could see the sun-kissed tan skin of his arms where the man had rolled up the sleeves of his button down to elbow length, and he could also see the dark hair lining his forearms. The man was holding a plastic bag with a pharmacy logo on it in the hand that wasn’t holding his daughter’s. In addition to the messenger’s bag hanging against his hip, there was also a bright purple backpack slung over his shoulder—probably Chrissie’s.

Clint suddenly felt a bit like a slob in comparison, with his purple t-shirt, ripped jeans, and well-loved Converses. He resisted the urge to pat down his very-likely messy hair. At least his shirt was clean.

He drew his eyes away to the smiling little girl hanging off her father’s hand. “Hey, Chrissie,” he greeted the girl with a bright smile. He glanced at her father. “And hey, Mr. Chrissie’s Dad.”

As the little girl giggled, the guy huffed a laugh. “Bruce works just fine,” Mr. Chrissie’s Dad said, letting the bag in his hand slide to his wrist as he offered his hand. “Bruce Banner.”

Clint started to reach for the man’s hand before quickly switching the leash to his other hand. He gripped Bruce’s proffered hand in a handshake. “Clint Barton,” he introduced himself with a smile. The hand in his was soft and warm, unlike the rough calloused hands years of archery had given him.

“Daddy, he has a puppy!” Chrissie exclaimed excitedly, letting go of her dad’s hand and approaching Lucky, whose tail began to wag rapidly.

Lucky sniffed her outstretched hand before licking it, startling a shriek of laughter from the girl.

“He’s not really a puppy,” Clint replied as he and Bruce’s hands released.

“All dogs are puppies,” Chrissie said knowingly, continuing to pet the happy dog without pause. She then looked up at Bruce. “Daddy, can _we_ get a puppy?” she asked, her eyes all big and pleading. “Please, please, please?”

“Your hamster would get jealous,” Bruce replied seriously, and Clint had to bite his lip to keep from grinning.

“Peaches wouldn’t get jealous!” the little girl argued.

“She would,” Bruce insisted, like he was the leading authority on the behavioral patterns of hamsters. He glanced over at Clint. “Have you ever seen a jealous hamster before?” he asked solemnly, though there was a spark of mischief in his eyes that made Clint’s stomach do flips in his core.

Clint nodded sagely and looked back down at Chrissie. “I have,” he answered. “Hamsters are super jealous animals. They _hate_ sharing their owner with anyone.”

A small pout appeared on the little girl’s face. “Peaches won’t even learn how to fetch,” she said dejectedly. “I’d never be able to teach her how to _share_.” She sighed and patted Lucky again. “Okay, no puppy, then.”

Bruce smiled and lightly ruffled his daughter’s hair, making her smile again. “That’s very reasonable of you,” he said fondly. “Well,” he began, glancing back at Clint again, “we need to get going.”

“Where are you headed?” Clint asked, hoping once he had blurted it out that it wasn’t too invasive a question.

But Bruce just gestured up the path. “Just to campus,” he replied. “I have a class in fifteen minutes.”

“I can walk you there, if you’d like,” Clint offered.

As Chrissie cheered, no doubt pleased that she’d have more time with Lucky, Bruce gave him this look that Clint had a hard time interpreting. A moment later, though, a gorgeous little smile touched Bruce’s lips. “Sure,” he said softly, “that’d be nice.”

Clint managed to keep from beaming happily and fell into step with Bruce and Chrissie. “So,” he began conversationally, “are you a student, or do you teach?”

“Oh, I teach,” Bruce answered, watching his daughter pet Lucky. “I’m a physics professor at the university. How about yourself?” he asked, looking at Clint. “Are you new at the gym?”

“Nah,” Clint replied. “Natasha—Ms. Romanoff—needed a hand on Saturday since Ms. Lewis was away. I’m a personal trainer and the archery instructor at the gym.”

“Archery?” Bruce repeated, sounding genuinely interested.

“What’s archery?” Chrissie asked, peering back at the two adults.

Clint went with the simplest explanation that nearly all kids understood. “You ever hear of Robin Hood?” he asked.

“Like the movie with the foxes?” Chrissie asked, eyes going big with wonder.

“Yep,” he said with a nod. “Y’know how he uses a bow and arrow?” he asked, mimicking the motion of firing off an arrow. “That’s what I do.”

“That is so cool,” the little girl said reverently, like she had never heard of something so awesome.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed with a grin, “I think so, too.” He glanced back over at Bruce, who was still watching him. “But I’ll be there on Saturday to help out again.”

That warm little smile appeared on Bruce’s face again, and Clint tried not to get lost in the warmth that appeared in his eyes. “It’s all she’s been talking about,” Bruce said softly, glancing at Chrissie again. “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

“Yeah!” Chrissie said brightly. She abandoned Lucky and immediately hopped up onto the curb lining the concrete path through the park. Holding her arms out, she took careful steps along the path and only wobbled a little bit, but she didn’t fall. She paused to beam up at Clint. “Just like you told us.”

“Very good!” Clint praised. “You’re gonna do great on Saturday.”

Chrissie smiled radiantly again and hopped off of the curb to take hold of Bruce’s hand again. When Clint glanced ahead, he saw the exit of the park and the university campus buildings on the other side of the street. 

He tried not to feel dismayed.

“Well,” Bruce said almost reluctantly, “it was nice properly meeting you.”

“You, too,” Clint replied with a smile. “We’ll see you both on Saturday morning?” he asked hopefully.

Bruce smiled again. “Absolutely,” he answered. “Enjoy your walk, Clint.”

“Bye, Mr. Barton,” the little girl said happily. She gave Lucky one last pat on the head. “Bye, puppy.”

Clint waved after them as they proceeded out of the park. “Bye,” he said, smirking when he saw the brightly colored ponies on the backpack over Bruce’s shoulder. He watched them cross the road hand-in-hand and head toward one of the university buildings.

He sighed and looked down at where Lucky had sat down, also staring down the path after them. He scratched behind his dog’s ears. “C’mon, boy. Let’s head home.”

==

At long last, Saturday arrived. Clint got up early without complaint and made himself some coffee to ensure he wouldn’t be quite so dead on his feet today like he had felt last weekend. 

He gave Lucky an enthusiastic pat on the head as he wandered out of his apartment’s kitchen on his way back up to the loft where his bedroom was with a mug of coffee in his hand. 

After a moment of rifling through his dresser, he found his favorite purple muscle shirt—the one Natasha had told him one random night that brought out his eyes and made his chest look amazing—and pulled it over his head. He slipped on his regular gym shorts and hoodie and headed out the door. 

“Wish me luck,” he called to Lucky as he slipped out the front door.

==

Natasha almost looked surprised by how on-time he was.

Darcy Lewis, Natasha’s assistant for this class, wasn’t quite so subtle about it. “What the hell are you doing here before noon?” she asked.

“Why aren’t you at home with ice packs on your face?” Clint shot back as he walked into the gym at 8:30 on a Saturday morning.

“I’m feeling _much_ better, Clint dear, thank you for asking and worrying about little old me,” Darcy replied smoothly, readjusting her glasses before she went back to looking at her phone. “I don’t know why people agonize about getting their wisdom teeth yanked. It was days of awesome pain killers and nothing but ice cream. It was heaven— _oooh,_ hell-o arms.”

Clint rolled his eyes as he tossed his hoodie next to Natasha’s bag.

“You dressed to impress someone?” Darcy asked with a soft purr in her voice, slipping her reading glasses down her nose to get a better look.

Before he could reply, Natasha appeared at his side. “It’s Dr. Banner, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Chrissie’s dad?” Darcy asked, zooming across the gym to join Natasha as her phone went into her pocket and her glasses came off.

“That’s why you wanted to come back today,” Natasha went on knowingly.

Clint raised his hands and took a step back from the pair of women in front of him. “Listen—” he tried.

“That’s _also_ why you’re wearing that,” Natasha continued. A smile touched her lips as she lightly pinched the fabric of his muscle shirt lightly. “I didn’t think you had actually been listening when I told you that you look good in this color.”

“ _And_ in that cut of shirt,” Darcy added, stepping back to more thoroughly appreciate the view, “because _damn.”_

Clint folded his arms over his chest to hide his pecs from view, which made Darcy cackle and Natasha smirk. “I’m gonna ask you two as friends to _not_ embarrass me today,” he requested, sounding nearly pleading.

“Don’t you worry, Arms,” Darcy said, reaching out to pat his bicep reassuringly. “We’ll be on our very best behavior.”

As Darcy twirled off to continue prepping the gym, all the while going on about the romance on the gym floor, Natasha sidled up to Clint’s side. He glanced down at her for a moment before he finally let his arms back down to his sides.

“Are you going to ask him out today?” Natasha asked softly, staring him down.

Clint heaved an anxious sigh and looked over at where Darcy was dragging one of the mats into place. “I wanted to on Tuesday when I bumped into him and his kid in the park, but he was kind of in a hurry. I don’t know if today would be the right time.”

Natasha shifted until she was directly in front of him. “Don’t talk yourself out of this, Clint,” she said in a low voice.

He looked down at his feet for a moment before he met Natasha’s eyes, seeing her concern in her gaze. “This isn’t me psyching myself out,” he replied quietly. “It’s just…have you seen the way he looks at his daughter? He absolutely _adores_ her, and today is her day. I don’t want to take away from that.”

Natasha watched him for a long moment, as if trying to parse out the truth from his statement to ensure that he wasn’t just being a coward who didn’t think he deserved something nice. “Well,” she began after another moment, “how about next weekend, then?”

“I totally volunteer to come back next weekend,” Clint immediately replied.

The fervor of his answer made Natasha laugh softly before she pushed him out toward the gym. “Let’s get to work.”

Together, the three of them finished getting the gym floor set up in time for the first of the students to arrive. The family groups were larger today since the kids had their parents, grandparents, and other family members to come see today’s events.

Clint kept his eyes open for Bruce and Chrissie as he finished setting up the lines of tape next to the balance beam. They wanted to ensure that the kids who were too nervous to tackle the balance beam would have something to showcase their skills on.

When a familiar shriek of laughter sounded, Clint glanced over at the entry to the gym and—

Something in his chest froze and turned to lead.

Swinging Chrissie between them was Bruce and a woman. She had long dark hair, the shade so very close to Chrissie’s, and Clint suddenly found himself wracking his brain to remember if he had ever noticed a wedding ring on Bruce’s finger. Even if they weren’t married, they looked like such a family unit.

The lead weight in his chest sunk into his stomach. He should have known.

Clint tried not to watch Bruce and his girlfriend/lover/wife move across the gym together to the bleachers, where the other families had gathered. He pointedly ignored the glances he received from Natasha and Darcy, who sent him looks of concern and worry at different levels of subtlety.

When nine o’clock finally rolled around, Natasha corralled the kids into the two neat rows of seven again. After the morning greeting, Natasha turned to her two friends. “Ms. Lewis, Mr. Barton, please lead the class through their stretches,” she said, letting her eyes linger on Clint for a moment longer before she turned and approached the bleachers to welcome the families to the gym.

Clint let Darcy lead the kids through the beginning stretches. The kids were restless today, no doubt eager to show off to their families. He kept himself resolutely in teacher mode so he wouldn’t dampen the energy or mood of the kids’ big day. That, and it kept him from thinking about the thick feeling in his throat and the nausea roiling around in his gut. No, he could do without that right now.

Natasha came back and guided the kids over to a different portion of the gym mats to begin the presentation. They started the group with somersaults, which the parents and families all applauded for. 

Clint tried not to look over at Bruce and the woman with him when Chrissie went, but he heard the woman cheer rambunctiously, which made the little girl giggle wildly. All it did was send that sick feeling deeper into him.

The final portion of the event was the balance beam. Darcy, Clint, and Natasha all took turns spotting the kids who wanted to try the balance beam. Darcy personally handled the kids who were too scared to try, so before they ended up in tears, she led them to the tape lines. The parents and families applauded for everyone, whether they crossed the balance beam or a line of tape, much to the kids’ delight.

Somehow, Clint ended up being the one to spot Chrissie. She beamed up at him happily, which ensured he wouldn’t shoot Natasha or Darcy dirty looks for setting him up.

“Ready?” he asked her softly. 

She gave a firm nod and held out he arms to let herself be picked up.

Clint set her down on the beam and held her until she had her footing. He only removed his hands when she nodded and brought her arms out to steady herself. He stayed nearby to ensure he could catch her, but she moved confidently across the beam.

As she neared the end, Clint knew he had a smile on his face to match the little girl’s. She reached the end of the beam and held her arms up again, and Clint obligingly lifted her up and set her down on the mat. 

Chrissie gave a little hop when her feet touched the mat, raising her arms over her head with grace. “Ta da!”

The audience applauded. “Yeah, Chrissie!” a woman shouted.

Clint glanced over at the bleachers. The woman sitting next to Bruce was clapping uproariously, but Clint only had eyes for Bruce. The man had such a peacefully happy smile on his face, looking so proud of his daughter as he did the little golf clap thing again.

He had never seen so much love on someone’s face before.

And then suddenly, Bruce was looking at Clint. Their eyes only met momentarily, but it was long enough for Clint to feel something between them. It sent a breathless feeling through his body, like electricity, conflicting with the turmoil that had been settled deep within him. 

Bruce broke the stare first, glancing away, and Clint swore he saw a faint blush color the man’s cheeks.

Clint swallowed and forced himself to get back to work, trying to make sense of what had just transpired between them. When he wasn’t assisting a kid across the beam, he was stealing sly glances over at Bruce and the lady beside him, who had taken to leaning in a little to whisper with Bruce. The man seemed to keep shushing her, but that faint pink stayed on his face, and Clint noticed her glancing across the gym at him every now and then.

He wasn’t sure what to think of anything that had happened this morning.

The presentation came to an end, and Darcy lined the kids up to take a bow as the parents and families gave a standing ovation. The children looked beyond elated.

The class ended and the kids were released back to their families. The children rushed to the bleachers and the families began to disperse. Darcy, Clint, and Natasha began to clean up in between waving good-bye to kids.

When Clint was nudged lightly by Natasha, he looked up.

“Go peel the tape up from the mats,” the redhead said quietly.

As Darcy grinned, Clint glanced over at the balance beam and immediately realized why she was smiling. Chrissie was guiding the unknown woman on how to balance properly on one of the tape lines while Bruce stood back and watched with a cute, bemused little smile on his face.

Clint immediately whipped back around and looked at Darcy and Natasha, who both looked pointedly at Bruce and then back at him. He shook his head fervently, but was pushed toward the family by Natasha. 

As he stumbled toward the family, he heard Darcy snicker and swore he would somehow make them pay.

Bracing himself, Clint approached. He saw the woman peer over at him before a smile tugged at her lips. She looked at Bruce and nodded toward Clint.

Bruce instantly looked over and saw Clint coming toward them. It turned out he hadn’t been mistaken about the man blushing faintly.

Clint smiled involuntarily when their eyes met. “Hey there,” he said to the group. ‘Sorry, but we have another class coming and we need to finish cleaning up.”

“Oh, right,” Bruce said, glancing over at Chrissie and the woman for a moment before he glanced back. “Um, we’re heading out—”

“Bruce!” the woman cut in as she walked over. There was something mischievous about her expression that had Clint confused, but she went on before he could ponder over it for too long. “Who’s your friend?” she asked.

Something flashed across Bruce’s face, and it almost looked like how Clint was feeling toward Natasha and Darcy at the moment. “Jen, this is Clint Barton,” Bruce began the introductions, letting his hands make vague nervous gestures between them. “Clint, this is Jennifer Walters—”

“Bruce’s cousin,” Jennifer cut in again with a bright smile, thrusting out her hand for Clint to shake.

Clint stared at her for a moment before it really sunk in, and he prayed his relief wasn’t visible on his face. He took a breath in through his nose and hoped it wasn’t too shaky when he exhaled as he reached forward to take Jennifer’s—Bruce’s _cousin,_ not his wife or lover or girlfriend or _anything_ —hand. “Nice to meet you,” he managed.

Jennifer smiled again and lightly patted Bruce on the cheek before turning around. “C’mon, kid,” she said to Chrissie, “let’s get this tape up while we give your dad and Mr. Barton a moment.”

“You don’t have to—” Clint started to protest, but he fell silent when Jennifer shot him a quelling look. When he looked back at Bruce, he saw the man was _definitely_ blushing behind the hand that was running over his face. 

Hope shot through him, leaving him feeling breathless. He was suddenly terrified.

As Jennifer and Chrissie got to work pulling up the tape, Bruce let his hand fall away from his face and he drew a deep breath. He met Clint’s eyes, and Clint tried to remember how to breathe. 

“Can I get you a coffee sometime?” Clint blurted in question, and then instantly felt his face heat up. 

Bruce drew a sharp breath and his eyes widened slightly, but he kept staring at Clint. Clint stared back, waiting and anxious and terrified, but he didn’t look away from the brown eyes staring at him.

“U-Uh,” Bruce stammered gracefully, finally breaking their eye contact to glance away. He swallowed and drew another breath before he met Clint’s eyes again. 

And to Clint’s astonishment, an anxious smile appeared on Bruce’s face. “That…that sounds great,” Bruce answered in a soft whisper.

Relief and excitement and emotions he couldn’t possibly name flooded into Clint’s chest, and a smile immediately spread wide across his face. “Great,” he breathed, elation and happiness cascading over him. “Great,” he said again as he felt his smile widen. 

Bruce’s smile turned a little more genuine at Clint’s reaction and he huffed a quiet laugh. “Here, we should, uh…” he began, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Oh, right,” Clint replied, fumbling to pull his from the pocket in his gym shorts. 

They exchanged phones to enter their contact information, and Clint couldn’t stop smiling. Thankfully, Bruce seemed to be having the same problem.

Once they were finished, they returned each other’s phones and met each other’s eyes again, and they both grinned again. 

“I’ll text you?” Clint said, his voice going up at the end with hope.

Bruce smiled again. “Okay,” he replied softly. He glanced over at Jennifer and Chrissie, who were pulling up the last line of tape together and not paying them any mind. Bruce met Clint’s eyes again and gave him another smile. “Enjoy your afternoon, Clint,” he said softly. “I’ll talk with you soon.”

“Okay,” Clint replied in a whisper, “you too.” 

He watched Bruce approach his cousin and child. “Ready to head out?” he asked.

“Daddy!” Chrissie said excitedly, rushing over and grabbing Bruce’s hands. “Aunt Jenny says we’re going out for brunch to celebrate!”

“My treat!” Jennifer added with a bright smile. Her smile seemed to widen when she looked at Bruce, and she threw an arm around his shoulders and started to lead them out of the gym. 

Clint watched them walk across the gym, so he saw when Jennifer whispered something in Bruce’s ear and when Bruce nodded minutely. He saw the warm smile of pride that crossed his cousin’s face, and how she drew him in for a quick, but loving embrace. 

Clint grinned and waved when the three of them waved goodbye before exiting the gym. He stayed where he was for a long moment, just replaying everything that had happened this morning in his mind to make sure it was real. 

A moment later, he glanced down at his phone, which he was still clutching to his chest, and opened the contacts list. Sure enough, the name **_Bruce Banner_** was listed.

He had Bruce’s number.

He would be going on a date with Bruce.

Clint stared at his phone until the screen went black, and then he stared at his reflection in the powered-down screen. A grin slowly spread across his face, disbelief and happiness writ clear on his features. 

Across the gym, Natasha and Darcy were standing together watching him when he finally turned and glanced over at them. At the sight of his grin, Darcy threw her hands up and gave a whoop of victory.

Natasha smiled quietly and stepped across the gym. She stopped in front of him and pulled him into a brief, but tender embrace. “You’re allowed to be happy,” she said softly against him. “Remember that.”

Before Clint could think of a reply, Darcy came running over with Natasha’s bag and Clint’s sweater in her arms. “Where are we going to celebrate?” she asked with an excited grin.

“It’s ten o’clock on a Saturday morning,” Clint pointed out. “And we’re not going out to celebrate this.”

“Fine,” Darcy replied, “then we’re going out to celebrate Natasha’s teaching prowess, my swift return to health, _and_ you having a date.” 

“We’re celebrating your having your wisdom teeth removed?” Clint deadpanned.

“ _And_ my miraculous return to health,” Darcy added. She threw his sweater straight at Clint’s face. “Let’s go. I’m feeling flapjacks.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

“We’re not talking about this,” Clint said as he drowned his pancakes in syrup.

They were at the same diner Natasha had taken him to last week, with the horrible coffee, decent pancakes, and _amazing_ blueberry syrup. There was no sign of Bruce, Jennifer, or Chrissie within the diner, which Clint was almost thankful for. They must have gone to a different restaurant for their celebration.

That thought got him thinking about how Bruce’s cousin had looked at Bruce before they had left, of the pride in her eyes and something else in her expression—possibly relief. It made Clint wonder, especially considering how anxious Bruce had been before Clint had asked him out.

“Oh, we totally are,” Darcy said, drawing Clint from his thoughts. As she started smothering her own pancakes in regular maple syrup, she eyed him. “I mean, when was the last time you went out with someone, and not in the _hey, let’s get pizza and beer and hang out tonight_ kind of way?”

Clint shot Natasha a pleading look, but she only appeared thoughtful as she stirred her creamer into her coffee. “Was it Phil?” she asked.

“Phil was years ago,” Clint replied, ducking his head to cut his pancakes.

“Then it was Jess,” Darcy said, looking to him for confirmation.

Clint fought to keep the wince from his face even as he felt his insides cringe. Jess had been a lot of fun while it lasted, but they had never really clicked. It had been a nasty end to their friendship, and he hadn’t seen her since.

“No,” Natasha said, breaking into his thoughts, “that one doesn’t count. That was all physical, nothing emotional.”

“It disturbs me that you know so much about my past relationships,” Clint said, trying to laugh it off as a joke, but it fell flat even to his ears.

Darcy actually looked vaguely apologetic as Natasha met his eyes again. “There really hasn’t been anyone since Phil?” she asked softly.

Drumming his fingers along the edge of the table, Clint took a breath. “Not really, no,” he finally admitted. “I’m no good at this sort of thing,” he went on softly, looking down. “Maybe I shouldn’t—”

“Stop.”

He looked up sharply at Natasha’s command and found her giving him a hard look. “You’re allowed to be happy,” she said firmly. “We’re not trying to talk you out of going out with Dr. Banner.”

“Yeah, no way,” Darcy added in agreement.

“What you need is someone to help balance you out,” Natasha went on.

“Phil balanced me out,” Clint said, glancing down at his pancakes again.

“You were both in college for completely different things,” Natasha reminded him. “You’ve had time to mature and settle down a little.” When he huffed a soft laugh, a small smile touched her lips. “I’ve known you for a long time, Clint,” she said, “and despite sometimes acting like a boy half your age, you’ve grown up a lot in the time I’ve known you, since college and since Phil.”

Clint shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat, letting his eyes drift back down to his pancakes.

“As evidenced by how much syrup you’ve put on your flapjacks,” Darcy finally said, jabbing her own syrup-soaked fork in his direction and expertly breaking the tension between the three of them. 

Clint laughed and Natasha smiled, and they moved on to different topics at last.

But when they were getting ready to go and Darcy had excused herself to the ladies room, Natasha looked at him again. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right person before,” she said softly, drawing his eyes away from his phone and to her. “Maybe Dr. Banner will be the one. He certainly seems sweet.”

Clint glanced down at his phone again. “Maybe,” he agreed softly. He stayed quiet for a moment before looking back at Natasha. “What do you think would be considered too soon to text him?”

Natasha smiled and snatched his phone from his hand, slipping it into his pocket seamlessly. “Less than an hour later is way too soon.”

==

So Clint waited and agonized until late Tuesday morning before he finally decided to text Bruce. In between appointments at the gym, he pulled out his phone and found Bruce’s name in the contacts list. He finally rustled up the courage to thumb open a text window, but even then, he agonized over what to say.

He considered hunting down Natasha, but he knew she had her own appointments right now and decided he could do this alone.

Finally, as he was waiting for his 2:30 appointment to arrive, he pulled his phone out and opened a new text window.

**_Me: hey bruce! hope you and chrissie had a great weekend. do you think we could meet up on friday?_ **

He considered adding a smiley face, but hit send instead. He stared at his phone for a good three minutes before he set it to vibrate and headed back out into the gym. His appointment was there, so he got back to work, trying to keep himself distracted so he wouldn’t think about what reply he might get—or if he’d even get a reply at all.

With that dark thought, he threw himself into his work, but with each passing appointment with no reply, he started to get anxious.

He was with his last appointment of the day—all veterans and personal friends of his with their buddy who was still getting the hang of his new metal prosthetic arm—when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Sam, who was standing with Clint, noticed him jump at the sudden vibration. “You alright?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Clint clapped his hand over where his phone was in his pocket. “Yes,” he replied too fast, which made Steve and Bucky glance over.

“You sure?” Bucky asked, relaxing on the pec deck machine and rolling his left shoulder, half flesh and half metal. “You’re looking jumpy.”

“I’m fine,” Clint said. “Just a text I’ve been waiting for. C’mon, you have three more before you’re done.”

With a huff, Bucky set himself back up. “I don’t need you watching me like a hawk, y’know,” he commented. “You can look at your text.”

“I can’t,” Clint replied tightly. The weight of the phone in his pocket was terrible, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at it just yet.

The three of them looked at him again and, to his surprise, it was Steve who smiled first. “Oh, one of _those_ kinds of messages,” he said perceptively. “Go on and answer them.”

“I don’t want to come across as desperate,” Clint replied, crossing his arms over his chest protectively. “It can at least wait until after work.”

“But can you?” Steve asked, his smile softening minutely.

“Ah,” Sam said knowingly with a grin, “first date coming up?” he asked, nudging Clint with an elbow.

Clint sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “When did I get such nosy friends?” he asked the heavens.

“We’re nosy because we care,” Sam said seriously, though there was a spark of amusement in his voice.

“And that’s not a no,” Bucky added with a smirk. When Clint turned a glare at him, he smiled innocently and did another flex on the piece of exercise equipment.

Steve gave him a smile that was so sweet and wholesome it made Clint shift uncomfortably. The muscle-bound blond had a way of making people just want to do _good,_ and it was a little unnerving. “We’re just happy to see you back in the dating scene,” he said. “It’s been so long. We just want you to be happy.”

“So go out there and sweep her off her feet!” Sam summed up, throwing an arm around Clint’s shoulders.

“Him,” Clint corrected softly.

“So go out there and sweep him off his feet!” Sam repeated with the same level of enthusiasm. 

After a moment of staring down at the floor, Clint glanced around at each of his friends. When he saw them all looking at him with such encouragement, he felt his lips twitch. “How about we finish up Bucky’s set first?” he asked with a growing smile. 

“Don’t let me get in the way of your budding love life,” Bucky replied as he got up, accepting the bottle of water from Steve.

They finished up the exercise routine and called it a day. The three of them wished him luck as they walked out of the gym and Clint all but ran to the locker room to have some privacy. 

Once he was out of the main area of the gym, he cast a nervous look around to ensure he was alone before he slipped his phone from his pocket. He turned on the screen and felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw the waiting message. That feeling only intensified when he saw it was from Bruce.

**_Bruce Banner: Sorry for the delayed reply. Just got a babysitter for Chrissie, so I’m totally free this Friday evening._ **

Clint grinned when he read the response. He still needed to figure out what the date would entail, but just the thought that Bruce had already cleared his schedule for _him_ made his heart flutter. 

He opened a response and tapped out a reply.

**_Me: no worries! can i get you dinner or something? 7ish?_ **

The reply came through a minute later.

**_Bruce Banner: Dinner sounds great! Did you have anywhere in mind?_ **

Clint grinned in triumph. He had a date.

They texted each other back and forth to set up plans. Within minutes, they had a restaurant picked out where they would meet up at seven o’clock on Friday. 

**_Me: i just finished my shift at the gym and need to head to the range for archery lessons. talk to you soon?_ **

**_Bruce Banner: Talk to you soon. Drive safe._ **

Clint read the message as he finished pulling his sweater down over his torso. He texted back a smiley face before he slipped his phone back into his pocket and slung his bag over his shoulder.

As he was walking through the gym on his way out, he detoured over to where Natasha was walking her client through a set of exercises with weights. 

Natasha begrudgingly allowed herself to be wrapped up in a full-bodied hug that Clint knew she could easily break out from, so he squeezed her a little more tightly. “When’s the date?” she asked with a sigh.

“Friday,” Clint replied before he set her back down. He gave her a dazzling grin before he left her to her appointment, feeling like he was floating in his excitement. 

==

The days leading up to Friday were busy, but not so busy that he couldn’t start to get anxious. He hadn’t dated anyone in so long. If he didn’t count what he had had with Jess (he really shouldn’t; that hadn’t really been anything but a long series of hookups over the course of a few months, strictly sex until he started having feelings), he hadn’t had a date with anyone since Phil, which had ended almost three years ago. 

With Phil, everything had seemed so easy, but Natasha had been right. They had been heading in different directions. They still chatted from time to time, but since Phil had moved away for his graduate program and Clint had stayed here, they hadn’t talked in a while. At least they were still friends.

He hadn’t been in the dating scene for a long time, was what he was getting at, and he was nervous. He knew he was probably a bit rusty, but he _really_ wanted this to go well with Bruce. 

But the more he thought about it, the more anxious he got. He and Phil had both been older than their classmates in college, and Phil had only been a year older than him. He hadn’t ever dated someone with a gap in between their ages like his and Bruce’s. He didn’t know for sure how old Bruce was, but if he had to guess, he’d say mid to late thirties, maybe forty. Clint was only twenty-eight, twenty-nine in January. 

There was possibly close to a decade between them. The numbers weren’t what bothered Clint, but the different levels of maturity. Bruce was a college professor with a doctorate and a kid, and Clint worked in the local gym. The differences were stark.

They texted each other through the week, which helped relax Clint’s nerves a little. They were meaningless little conversations, mostly just _good morning_ and _have a good day :)_ to make each other smile. 

Then Friday came, and all of Clint’s nerves and insecurities came back with a vengeance. He got through work in a haze, trying his hardest to focus on his tasks but losing himself in his foreboding thoughts. His appointments for the day didn’t seem to notice, thankfully, but Natasha did. 

She cornered him on his way out of the gym right around five o’clock (t-minus two hours oh _god)_ and blocked him off before he could leave. “Relax,” she said softly, and he felt himself tense up even more than he already was. “You’re going to do fine tonight.”

“You don’t know that,” Clint replied, looking over her shoulder and out of the sliding doors that led to the parking lot. 

“I do,” Natasha urged gently. When he glanced back down at her, she offered a reassuring smile. “Just calm down, relax, and be yourself. It’s your first date, not your execution. Now come on, deep breath.”

She stared at him until he did as ordered. He drew a long breath in through his nose, held it for a few seconds, and then exhaled through his mouth. After repeating the process, he felt some of the tension in his shoulders relax slightly. “Okay,” he breathed out on his exhale. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Natasha repeated before lightly clapping him on his arms. “Now, go enjoy yourself.”

Clint nodded, and Natasha stepped around him to get back to work. Before she made it too far, though, he twisted around and called her name. “Nat?” When she turned back around, Clint offered her a tiny, nervous smile. “Thanks.”

Natasha returned the smile with a small one of her own and went on back into the gym.

The drive home was another hazy endeavor, but he made it without incident. He had been agonizing since last night about what he should wear. The restaurant they had agreed on wasn’t something super fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but he wanted to look good. 

“This is it, buddy,” he said to Lucky as he walked through the living room of his apartment, reaching down to scratched the dog’s ears. 

He went about getting ready, hopping in the shower and shaving. He styled his hair with a little more care than he normally used in the mornings so it wouldn’t look like he had just rolled out of bed. 

With close to twenty-four hours of deliberation, he had finally decided on what to wear tonight. He pulled on a pair of his nicer jeans and slipped into a black button down shirt. On top of that he put on a light silver suit jacket and took a gander in the mirror. 

He scrutinized himself for a long moment, twisting his jaw this way and that to see if anything stuck out, but nothing did. He met his eyes in the reflection and drew another deep breath. 

As he was finishing tying his dark dress shoes, he heard his phone chime with a text message. He smiled when he saw it was from Bruce.

**_Bruce Banner: Heading out now. See you soon._ **

“I can do this,” Clint said softly to himself, still staring down at the message from Bruce. He took another deep breath and let it out in a shaky exhale. “I can do this.”

After grabbing his wallet and feeding Lucky, he picked up his keys and headed out the door. 

He drove to the restaurant in silence with nothing but his jitters for company. It wasn’t a relatively long drive, but he was still a nervous wreck by the time he got to the restaurant. 

Pulling into an empty parking spot and putting his car in park, he stopped himself from running his hand through his hair and checked the time. 6:52. Eight minutes to spare. 

With a nervous inhale, Clint switched his car off and looked around the parking lot. It didn’t look like it would be too busy inside, which was probably a good thing. 

A van pulled into the parking lot and Clint held his breath as he watched it park. The breath escaped in a sigh when a man and a woman got out of the front seats. He watched them slide open one of the side doors and help a little boy out of the car. Together with the boy holding both of their hands, the family walked into the restaurant.

Clint’s eyes followed them the entire way into the building, and he felt himself swallow. 

But then his eyes were drawn to another car pulling into the parking lot. The car pulled into a nearby parking spot and Clint felt his eyes widen when Bruce got out. 

The man looked _stunning._ He was slipping his glasses into an inside pocket of his dark suit jacket as he shut his car door. Beneath the jacket was a dark blue button down shirt, this rich, deep blue that looked amazing against his tanned skin. The shirt was tucked into his dark pants, which were slightly less baggy than the slacks Clint had seen him wear in the past.

The view as a whole was _breathtaking._

And then Bruce stood next to his vehicle for a moment, staring at the restaurant as his hands fiddled anxiously with one another. 

As Clint watched him take a deep breath, he realized Bruce was as nervous as he was.

It gave him the courage to get out of his car. 

The sound of the closing car door made Bruce glance in his direction, and Clint tried to keep his face from flushing when Bruce did an actual double-take. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face as he walked over. “Hey Bruce,” he said, hoping to sound casual.

“Hey Clint,” Bruce replied, sounding almost distracted as his eyes did a quick once-over of Clint’s body. “You look…great,” he said as that same familiar blush tinted his cheeks.

“Thank you.” Clint grinned and _definitely_ didn’t flex a little as he took a closer look at Bruce. He looked even more amazing up close. His hair was a little less fluffy tonight, but there were still a few errant curls that blew faintly in the evening breeze. The top two buttons of that dark blue shirt were undone, giving him a small glimpse of his clavicle, and it was tantalizing. 

“You look amazing,” he returned when he met Bruce’s eyes again, pleased to see the blush had darkened a little. “Shall we head on in?”

Bruce smiled. “Sure.”

Clint wasn’t sure if he should offer an arm or his hand or something, so they walked across the parking lot together without touching. 

They walked into the building and approached the counter where the hostess was standing. She welcomed them to the restaurant and gave them both a smile. “Table for two, or will there be more to your party later?” she asked.

“Uh,” Clint replied, casting a quick glance over at Bruce before looking back at the hostess, “just for two, thanks.”

The hostess looked between them again before her smile turned a little sweeter. “Right this way, gentlemen,” she said as she picked up two menus and started leading the way to their table. 

Clint glanced over at Bruce, who had another adorable blush on his cheeks. He gave the man a reassuring smile before he gestured for Bruce to follow first. 

Bruce returned the smile with a shy little one of his own and followed after the hostess. Clint brought up the rear and took a deep breath in hopes it would calm his jitters.

They were shown to their table, a small booth toward the center of the building, and were seated. The hostess informed them that their waiter would be with them shortly. “Enjoy your meal,” she said with a parting smile before she returned to her station.

With the hostess gone, Clint and Bruce glanced at one another. “So, uh…” Clint began, running a finger along the edge of his menu, “how are you tonight?”

Bruce smiled. “Oh, I’m alright. How about yourself?”

“Good, good,” Clint replied, nodding.

And with that, an awkward silence fell over them. They watched each other for a long moment before they started going over the menu. Clint subtly watched Bruce reach into his jacket and slip on his glasses.

Their waiter came by and collected the drink orders. Clint followed Bruce’s example and ordered water. After all, they both needed to be up early tomorrow for gymnastics practice at nine.

The uncomfortable silence returned once the waiter walked off. They returned to their menus and Clint nervously tried to think of some way to break the ice.

He looked up with a start when Bruce cleared his throat softly. Bruce was glancing at him over the rims of his glasses, and Clint found himself staring at the sight. “Have you, um, been here before?” Bruce asked hesitantly.

“A few times,” Clint replied, glancing around the interior of the restaurant. “I was actually here last month for a friend’s birthday.”

Bruce smiled a little at that and glanced back down at the menu. “What would you recommend, then?” he inquired.

Clint grinned. “Let’s see…”

By the time the waiter came back with their waters, they were ready to order. They both ordered the same seafood pasta dish and handed over the menus.

It was only as the waiter walked off to put in their order that Clint realized they didn’t have the shield of the menu to hide behind anymore. He looked over at Bruce in time to watch him slide his glasses off.

Their eyes met for a split second before they both looked away again.

He felt Bruce look back at him as a huff of laughter escaped involuntarily from Clint’s body. “I’m sorry,” Clint said, peering cautiously back at Bruce. “I haven’t done… _this_ in a while,” he said, gesturing between them and around the restaurant.

Another little smile touched Bruce’s lips as he started fiddling with his glasses. “I haven’t either, so I completely understand,” he admitted softly. He spent another moment holding his glasses before he slipped them back into his pocket and looked at Clint again. “So,” he began, “other than teaching archery and gymnastics to toddlers, what do you do?”

Clint grinned. “You mean besides walking Lucky?” he asked. His smile widened when Bruce smiled again. “Honestly, not a whole lot. I help out at the gym a lot, and a friend and I are trying to set up a summer class to help kids discover archery.”

“That’s amazing,” Bruce replied with a brightening smile. “I take it you couldn’t do it last summer?”

“Nah,” Clint answered, “Kate and I didn’t get enough students interested—or we did, but there aren’t enough parents who want to leave their kids with pointy objects for extended periods of time.”

Bruce laughed, and despite it sounding a little rusty like he wasn’t used to laughing, Clint felt himself smile. “How about yourself?” Clint asked, reaching for his glass of water.

Bruce’s shoulders rose and fell in a light shrug. “Not a lot of time for hobbies,” he replied. “Chrissie just started getting interested in stars, so lately it’s been taking her out on clear nights to stargaze.”

“That’s adorable,” Clint murmured without thinking, and before he could feel too mortified, Bruce blushed lightly and laughed again.

“I’m just glad she has an interest in something I can realistically show her,” Bruce added, glancing over at his water.

A curious smirk crossed Clint’s face. “What was it before stars?” he asked.

“Pegasus and unicorns,” Bruce replied with a small sigh. “There’s only so many movies and stories I can show her at her age.”

“Getting tired of _Hercules_?” Clint asked with a grin.

Another laugh escaped from Bruce. “There are so many other much worse movies she can demand to be playing at all hours of the day. At least the music is good—”

He stopped suddenly and glanced at Clint, looking worried. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, throwing Clint for a loop. “If I’m talking about her too much, I can stop.”

“You don’t have to,” Clint replied with honesty.

Bruce stared at him for a long moment before he breathed out a long breath and traced his finger through the condensation on his glass of water. “I…I feel like I should warn you, probably now rather than later, that I…” He sighed again and met Clint’s eyes, and the real distress in the man’s gaze made something in Clint ache. “I’m always going to be a dad first before anything else. If… I will completely understand if you don’t want… _whatever_ this is to progress any further than—”

“What? No,” Clint said, leaning hastily forward and shaking their table and glasses of water slightly. “No, that’s what I already knew. I’d honestly be a little disturbed if you were going to put something else in front of being a parent.”

Bruce stared at him for a moment, looking hesitant, disbelieving, and unsure. “…really?”

“Yes, really,” Clint answered. “I know you’re a great dad, so I know you’re not going to do anything to make Chrissie feel unimportant, and I’m not going to put you in the position where you have to choose—I mean, if you want to keep doing whatever this is, so…”

Clint trailed off, looking down at his water and feeling self-conscious and uncertain. He could feel Bruce still staring at him, but he glanced up when a huff of laughter escaped from Bruce, sounding much less amused and more weary. It hurt something in Clint’s chest that this laugh sounded easier to make than his laughter of amusement.

“We’re not very good at this,” Bruce said quietly.

Clint smiled faintly and leaned back a little. “We’re really not,” he agreed quietly.

They both sat there for a second before Clint shifted in his seat. “So, what else do you do at the university? Do you just teach, or…?”

Bruce smiled at the obvious change in topic and relaxed a little. “I do some work in the university laboratories, too,” he replied, and began to elaborate when Clint asked him to.

The rest of the meal progressed in a similar fashion. They had bits of conversation and then trailed off into awkward silences before one of them tried again.

Clint insisted on paying for the meal, which Bruce protested about for only a moment before Clint gave him a look. Natasha would have been proud.

They walked out of the restaurant and into the cool September night. They had fallen into another uncomfortable hush as they stood there together on the sidewalk outside of the building. It was a clear night.

When he glanced over, he saw Bruce gazing up at the night sky, chin raised and expression peaceful. Clint wondered for a moment if he was regretting coming out with him tonight when he could have taken his daughter out to stargaze instead. There probably would have been a lot less awkward silences between them.

Clint followed his gaze up to the sky. “Clear night,” he mused softly. 

Bruce hummed in response without looking away from the stars.

Tilting his head a little, Clint glanced sidelong at the man next to him before looking away again. “Sorry if you missed a good stargazing night for…this,” he breathed.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Bruce immediately look over at him. “What? No, I wasn’t…” Bruce trailed off before he sighed.

When a hand hesitantly touched his arm, Clint tore his eyes away from the sky and looked at Bruce in surprise. The man was glancing away from him, but his hand remained on Clint’s arm.

Bruce drew a steadying breath. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable tonight,” he mumbled. “I really did enjoy getting to know you, and I really enjoyed myself.”

Clint looked down at where Bruce’s hand was touching him before he glanced over at Bruce, who was still looking away. He carefully covered Bruce’s hand with his free hand. The motion made Bruce glance away from the ground and off into the distance for a moment before he turned cautious eyes back over to Clint.

A nervous smile touched Clint’s lips. “Same goes to you,” he replied at a low volume. “I’m glad for the chance to have learned a bit more about you, too, even if I made you uncomfortable.”

They stared at each other before Bruce’s eyes went to where his hand was being covered with Clint’s. He stared at their hands for a moment before a hesitant smile touched his lips. “Maybe we started too big,” Bruce said. “Dinner’s a little…intimate.”

“You mean _intimidating?”_ Clint asked with a shaky smile.

“That too,” Bruce agreed. “How about next time we just try coffee?”

Clint swore he felt his heart stop and his mouth go slack. “Next time?” he repeated after a moment. “You—You want there to be a next time?”

The hand on his arm gave a light squeeze. “If you want there to be,” Bruce replied anxiously in a small voice, like he was expecting rejection.

“Yes!” The smile that crossed Clint’s face happened involuntarily. “I _definitely_ want there to be a next time,” he responded, grinning brightly. “But maybe we ought to take it a little slower next time,” he agreed, giving Bruce’s hand a reassuring squeeze since Bruce was just staring at him, looking at him a little in disbelief. “Coffee sounds great.”

A gorgeous, almost surprised smile touched Bruce’s lips. “Great,” he said softly, sounding pleased. “I’ll…I’ll text you during the week or something.”

Clint grinned and gently patted Bruce’s hand. “May I walk you to your vehicle?” he asked seriously, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

A laugh escaped from Bruce. “ _Such_ a gentleman,” he mused, playing along.

They shared a smile before they moved across the parking lot together, practically arm in arm. They took their time across the asphalt, just enjoying each other’s company in their first comfortable silence all evening. 

When they reached Bruce’s car, they paused for a moment. In the past, this was normally when they would share a kiss goodnight, but in this situation, Clint didn’t think that would be appropriate. He took a moment to frantically think of something else to do.

All thought processes came to a screeching halt when he felt Bruce lightly tug him into a slightly awkward, but undeniably affectionate embrace. Bruce just held him for a moment before he drew a breath. “Thank you for tonight,” he murmured softly as Clint quickly returned the hug.

“Thanks for meeting up with me,” Clint replied quietly. He sunk into the warmth of the embrace and didn’t bother hiding the small smile that crept to his lips.

They broke apart and met each other’s gazes for a second before hesitant smiles crossed their faces. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Bruce asked.

“Bright and early,” Clint said with a radiant grin. He lightly clapped Bruce on the arm before he took a step back. “Have a good night, Bruce.”

“You too,” Bruce replied, smiling peacefully again. “I’ll text you about coffee.”

Reluctantly, Clint turned and walked to his own vehicle. He heard Bruce get into his car and start the engine, but when Clint glanced back, Bruce smiled and waved. Clint smiled perhaps a bit foolishly as he waved back.

By the time Clint was inside his car, Bruce was pulling out of the parking lot. Clint’s eyes followed the taillights until he could no longer see them before he settled back against his seat.

For a long time, he just stared at the restaurant in silence. After a few lingering moments, he finally released a long, shuddering breath. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the steering wheel as a grin slowly spread across his face. 

==

About an hour later, Clint’s phone buzzed. 

Clint paused mid-sip of his beer and glanced over at the phone sitting on his coffee table. Lucky lifted his head from the couch cushion to look at the thing before he rolled onto his back and looked at Clint, eyes silently begging for some attention.

Swallowing the beer in his mouth, Clint set his beer bottle down and reached for his phone. “Probably Tasha checking up on me,” he disclosed to Lucky as he gave the dog a good belly rub that got the dog’s tail wagging. “She can be _such_ a mother hen when she wants…”

He trailed off when he pulled up the message and saw it was from Bruce. He blinked at his phone for a moment before he opened the message to reveal it was actually a photo. 

A smile found its way to his face when he saw the photograph was a picture of Bruce and Chrissie. His daughter was riding on his shoulders and was beaming at the picture in the kind of childish glee that always undeniably made Clint smile. Bruce was smiling that same peaceful smile he had been treated to earlier in the evening. It looked like they were standing under a streetlamp or something, given the typical graininess of the picture that came with low light settings. 

The text message accompanying the picture made his smile widen further.

**_Bruce Banner: We spotted Sagittarius on our way home and thought of you._ **

“The Archer,” Clint breathed to himself as he went back to looking at the picture. The pair looked so happy together and Clint couldn’t help the brilliant smile that found its way to his lips.

**_Me: i always have trouble finding that one. big dipper and orion are easy, but beyond that im lost._ **

A few moments later, the response came. 

**_Bruce Banner: Maybe next time you can come with us._ **

Clint stared at the message for a long moment before his smile changed into something a little more affectionate. His thumb hovered over the reply window for a second as he reveled in how touched he felt that this man would consider bringing him along on these adventures.

**_Me: maybe. :)_ **

==

Clint walked into the gym the next morning feeling good. The anxiety leading up to the date was gone, so he had been actually able to sleep for more than a few hours. Of course, that didn’t stop him from lying awake for a while, going over everything that had happened that evening.

It also didn’t stop him from going up to the roof to look at the stars. He never did find Sagittarius, but that hadn’t deterred him. He must have stayed up there for half an hour in silence before some other tenants came up to drink under the stars. He left them up there and went to bed, where he laid for another hour or so before he had finally been able to sleep.

As soon as the gym doors closed behind him, he felt Darcy and Natasha look over expectantly at him. He gave them a little wave. “G’morning,” he said.

Darcy traded a quick look with Natasha before she got back to setting up the mats. 

As Clint was pulling his sweatshirt over his head, he only heard the sound of gym mats being dragged across the floor. Still, it didn’t surprise him to suddenly have Natasha standing next to him once he had his sweatshirt off.

Natasha watched him for a second. “How did it go?” she asked softly.

Clint fiddled with the fabric of his sweater momentarily as he thought. “It was nice,” he answered. “A little awkward, but…” A small smile touched his lips. “…but it was nice. We’re getting coffee sometime next week.”

They watched each other for another lingering handful of heartbeats before a smile crossed Natasha’s face. She lightly punched him in the shoulder. “We’re doing the same thing today that we’ve been doing,” she informed him. “You’re on the balance beam. Try to get the kids who haven’t gone on it before on it, and get the kids who have been on it to try walking it properly.”

“Yes ma’am,” Clint replied, grinning as he ducked away from her fist and getting to work.

And when Bruce and Chrissie appeared, Clint couldn’t help but feel himself light up as Bruce smiled and waved. Clint smiled brightly and gave him a wave back, nearly overwhelmed by the feeling of warmth coursing through him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

When Clint got out of the shower on Monday morning, he saw he had a message waiting for him on his phone. He rubbed the towel through his hair one last time before he picked up his phone to look at the message.

**_Bruce Banner: Good morning! I hope you enjoyed your weekend. What do your Tuesday mornings typically look like?_ **

Clint eyed the message for a moment with a little smile on his lips before he thumbed open a response.

**_Me: good morning to you! im normally free most mornings, except mondays and fridays. i don’t have to be at the gym until 1 on tuesdays. whats up?_ **

**_Bruce Banner: Would you like to get coffee tomorrow with me? I have a break in between classes from 10 to 12:30._ **

Clint grinned wide. Another date. Another date with _Bruce._ He really had been honest about there being a next time.

**_Me: i would love to get coffee with you! do you know of a good shop on campus?_ **

They texted back and forth for a few minutes longer before they decided on a coffee shop somewhere around the university. They decided to meet there after Bruce’s class tomorrow morning before their conversation drew to a close.

**_Bruce Banner: I have to get to the research lab. I’ll see you tomorrow?_ **

**_Me: absolutely! have fun in the lab and ill see you tomorrow._ **

**_Bruce Banner: Have fun at work. :)_ **

**_Me: :)_ **

==

Clint made it to the coffee shop before the change of classes. He lingered out of the way and watched the mass of students exiting buildings in search of their next class, friends, or the caffeine to get through the rest of the morning. It was before ten in the morning, after all, which Clint remembered being a difficult time of day as a college student. 

He remembered being part of the flow of students from when he had been a college student. He didn’t miss it.

So he stayed out of the way and just enjoyed the comfortable fall weather. He was in his purple hoodie with his hands plunged into his pockets, leaned back against the coffee shop. His sunglasses kept out the worst of the morning sunlight, so he kept his eyes open for Bruce against the throng of people.

He perked up a little when he finally spotted Bruce. He was walking with what can only be one of his students. They’re both conversing about something as they crossed the street with the rest of the flow of students. 

Bruce had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder and a thick manila folder in his arms, but he still spoke animatedly with his free hand. 

The student walked off toward a different building, waving over her shoulder at her professor. Bruce waved back and then checked the watch on his wrist before he glanced at the coffee shop he was approaching.

When he spotted Clint, a bright smile formed on his face that Clint couldn’t help but return. Bruce easily dodged around students and made his way to Clint. “Good morning,” Bruce said with a smile.

“Good morning, indeed,” Clint returned, drawing the other man into a brief, but tight embrace that made Bruce huff a laugh before he returned it with his free arm. “How was class?” he asked once the hug had ended.

“It was fine,” Bruce replied, readjusting his hold on the folder, “though some of my students would probably say otherwise. First lab reports of the semester, and apparently I’ve got a reputation for being a tough grader.”

“How much truth is in this reputation of yours?” Clint asked with a grin, eyeing the folder.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “I’m not that strict,” he replied with a smile. “An unpleasant instance with a freshman class years ago has haunted me. At least it ensures I get the serious students more often than not.”

“I feel like I should look you up on _Rate My Professor,”_ Clint said with a teasing lilt.

It made Bruch huff another laugh. “If you want to read unflattering characterizations of me, go for it,” he said. He peeked into the coffee shop and made a face. “We probably ought to give it a few minutes to let the rush pass.”

Clint glanced over his shoulder and saw it was pretty hectic inside. “Good idea,” he replied. He turned back around and looked back at Bruce. “So, how many classes do you teach?” he asked.

“Let’s see…” Bruce began, looking up in thought. “I have two sections of General Physics, which is just some of the basic concepts of heat, motion, et cetera. Those are every day,” he explained, looking at Clint for a moment before he went on, counting off on the fingers of his free hand. “My next class today is Statistical Mechanics and Thermodynamics, which I also have on Thursday afternoons. I have a graduate level class on Thursday nights on Quantum Physics. The other graduate level course I teach is every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at nine o’clock in the morning: Subatomic Physics. And then I have labs on Tuesday and Thursday mornings,” he finished, holding up his folder a little.

“Jeez,” Clint said, looking at Bruce with a bit of awe, “I bet that keeps you busy. Is it normal to teach that much?”

“It’s about average,” Bruce replied with a shrug. “I’ll be able to teach more when Chrissie starts grade school. I actually taught way more before she was born.”

“Oh man, _and_ you have lab work on top of all of that?” Clint gave an impressed whistle. “You keep busy, man.”

Bruce smiled again and looked down at his folder, but it didn’t hide the faint blush that colored his cheeks. Clint shouldn’t have found it so endearing. 

“I try,” Bruce said softly. He then cleared his throat and glanced back at Clint. “So, uh, what do your days typically look like?”

Clint shrugged a little and stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie. “It tends to vary,” he replied. “Right now I meet most of my clients in the afternoon, though one of the other personal trainers is about to move, so his clients are going to be divvied up between the rest of my coworkers and I. And then we’re always getting new clients, so my schedule is always changing.” He paused for a moment. “But my archery classes are always at the same time: Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and then Saturday afternoons.”

“I still think it’s amazing that you’re an archer,” Bruce said with a smile. 

Clint grinned. “I can give you a demonstration, if you’d like,” he said, feeling his heart flutter when Bruce’s smile brightened.

They then entered the coffee shop, since the line had diminished a bit and the place was no longer insanely crowded. It was still very much full, with students taking every seat in the little shop. Clint figured they would just take their coffee back outside.

They continued to chat aimlessly as they waited in line. Clint saw that Bruce actually ordered a tea instead of coffee and filed away that tidbit of information. Clint ordered himself a coffee and they stood close together after Bruce had paid for both of their drinks. Their arms brushed together when they dodged out of the way of students, but Clint couldn’t help the way he lingered against Bruce’s warm, solid presence.

Once they had their drinks, they quickly retreated back outdoors.

Bruce looked over at Clint. “How would you feel about heading to my office?”

Clint immediately lit up. “You have an office?”

Bruce chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes?” he said, voice rising at the end in question.

“Hell yeah, that’s a yes,” Clint replied with a grin.

Bruce smiled again. “This way,” he said, and Clint fell into step with him as they crossed the campus. 

The reprieve from the mass of students came when they entered one of the campus buildings Clint never had gone into as a student. They had the elevator to themselves as they rode up to the fourth floor.

Clint looked around the hall as they stepped off the elevator. He had never had any reason to come to the science buildings, so he absorbed what there was to see.

He took Bruce’s tea as they came to a stop outside of a closed door. The way Bruce smiled in thanks made Clint’s chest suffuse with warmth. 

Bruce pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the office door. He pushed the door open and smiled back at Clint. “After you,” he said, gesturing for Clint to enter.

The first thing Clint noticed was the balloons. There were three of them, all the same design: blue with the words _Welcome Back!_ written in bold yellow lettering. “Nice balloons,” Clint said, grinning back at Bruce in time to see him pushing the door shut.

Bruce snorted a laugh. “You can thank Tony for those,” he said.

As Bruce moved toward the desk taking up a majority of the room, Clint continued to look around. There were bookcases crammed full with books on subjects Clint had never heard about. The window on the far wall had a nice view of a tree and one of the main walkways for students.

His attention was drawn to the things on the walls. While Bruce put his things down, Clint stepped up to the diploma on the wall, hanging in a nice wooden frame. “Your first name is Robert?” he asked.

“Yes, but no one actually calls me that,” Bruce replied, setting his folder of lab reports down.

“You’re brave to go by your middle name. At least it’s normal,” Clint mused. He looked back over at Bruce. “Better than _Francis,”_ he added, making a face before he went back to studying the diploma. “Is this for your doctorate?” he asked.

“Yes,” Bruce replied, coming back from around his desk. “Well, one of them, anyway.”

Clint immediately glanced back at him. “ _One_ of them?” he repeated. “Jeez, you’re either brilliant or an overachiever,” he said with a teasing smile. “Or both. How many do you have?”

“Two,” Bruce answered softly, shyly.

“That’s incredible,” Clint said, facing Bruce again. “I mean, it took me forever to finish my degree in physical education. I can’t even begin to think how long it took you to get to where you are now. It’s…it’s amazing,” he admitted quietly, giving Bruce a genuine little smile.

Bruce blushed a little in that way Clint was beginning to _really_ enjoy. “I, uh…t-thank you,” he replied softly.

Clint grinned and offered him his tea. “Nice little office you have here,” he said, changing the topic back to safer and probably more comfortable ground.

Bruce huffed a soft laugh and took the tea, though he let his fingers linger over Clint’s for an extra moment that made Clint’s grin soften into something more heartfelt.

Once Bruce took the tea, Clint went back to looking around the room. There was a clock hanging on the wall, the kind with the hour, minute, and second hand instead of the digital clocks he remembered seeing in his classrooms. He saw a framed newspaper article with a headline about Stark Industries, but there wasn’t much in the way of photographs aside from a nature painting hanging on the wall across from the desk. It was all very professional, but a bit impersonal. “So where are the ultra-cute pictures of Chrissie?” he asked, turning a knowing smile at Bruce.

The question seemed to surprise the other man, though the initial shock melted into quiet delight that had his gorgeous brown eyes glowing. “They’re on my desk,” he said, gesturing at the biggest piece of furniture in the small office space. “You can look if you want, but you don’t have…”

He trailed off as Clint bee-lined for the desk, and a warm smile touched Bruce’s lips.

Clint rounded the desk, and suddenly the room wasn’t so impersonal anymore. There were small framed photographs along the edge of the desk that immediately caught Clint’s eyes, and he instantly felt himself smile.

Each photograph was of Chrissie. There was one of her at the zoo, her arms lined with brightly colored birds, with the biggest smile on her face. There was another with Chrissie and another little girl—maybe only a year or so older—dressed up as Disney princesses for Halloween.

There were older pictures, too. There was one of Bruce holding the girl as an infant, maybe only a few weeks old. Neither of them was looking at the camera, but instead at each other. There was another with Bruce and two other adults—a woman with strawberry blonde hair and a man with a neatly trimmed goatee, both of whom looked vaguely familiar. Bruce had Chrissie, maybe a few months old, in his arms, and the other man was holding the same girl from the Halloween picture in his. The woman was between them, her arms over their shoulders.

“That was a charity thing they convinced me to come to,” Bruce explained, nearly making Clint jump. A hand landed on Clint’s shoulder and gently nudged until Clint sat down. The hand stayed on his shoulder, and Clint felt himself smile. “Tony and Pepper can be very persuasive,” Bruce went on.

“Wait.” Clint leaned in and took a closer look. “Do you mean Tony and Pepper _Stark?”_

“Well, Tony Stark and Pepper _Potts_ -Stark, but yes,” Bruce responded. “Tony teaches here as an adjunct in between working at Stark Industries.” He shrugged a little. “I’ve known them for a long time. They’re both good friends.”

Clint looked back at the photograph and saw how relaxed Bruce was, despite the slight fatigue he saw. 

He continued on his glance at the desk and spotted a sticky note attached to his computer monitor that made him instantly smile. It was two blocky stick figures, one big and one little. The small one had long hair, while the tall one’s was super curly. They’re holding hands (if that was what their overlapping hands indicated), and above them in the messy scrawl of a child was _Chrissie and Daddy._

“That’s adorable,” Clint said, pointing at the sticky note, but he paused when he noticed an unframed photo leaning against the computer that made his breath catch.

It was a photo from Chrissie’s gymnastics performance. She had her hands held out as she crossed the balance beam, her face set in a look of happy focus, and in the near background was Clint. It must have been when she was nearing the end of the beam, judging by the proud smile on Clint’s face as he carefully kept his hands up in case he needed to catch her.

The photo should have been focused on the little girl, but for whatever reason, it was cropped to include Clint.

He heard Bruce shift uncomfortably behind him, and the hand on his shoulder was withdrawn. “That, um…That was the only picture Jen got of her on the balance beam,” Bruce admitted softly. “I think she did it on purpose, since I had…had told her about you.”

That comment gave Clint the motivation to tear his eyes away from the picture to glance over his shoulder at Bruce. 

The man was looking at the picture instead of at Clint, but that blush was on his cheeks again. “If you’d rather I didn’t have this in my office, I can—”

“You talked to your cousin about me?” Clint asked, feeling the beginnings of a smile touch his lips that widened when Bruce’s blush darkened. 

“Jen… Whenever we call each other, she always asks if…y’know,” Bruce explained, gesturing vaguely and looking off again. “It’s been the same answer for a while, so I guess she jumped when I kind of faltered this time.”

Clint felt his smile brighten at Bruce’s response before he glanced back at the photograph. “It’s a nice picture of her,” he said at length.

“I think so,” Bruce agreed, and Clint didn’t have to be looking at him to know he was smiling again.

As Bruce moved off around the desk, Clint surveyed each of the pictures again. “So, where is she now?” he asked.

“She’s at preschool,” Bruce answered as he sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “I need to pick her up before my next class.”

Clint looked at Bruce again. “So that’s where you were coming from on that Tuesday when me and Lucky bumped into you two?” he asked.

Bruce smiled. “Did the children’s backpack give me away?” he asked good-naturedly before taking a sip of his tea. When Clint grinned but didn’t offer a response, Bruce went on. “She gets out at noon, and my Tuesday and Thursday afternoon classes start at 12:30.”

Clint gazed over at the clock hanging on the wall and saw that it was already nearing eleven. “Would you like some company when you pick her up today?” he asked.

Another small smile appeared on Bruce’s face as he looked out the window. “I was hoping you’d like to,” he admitted. “It’s such a nice day out.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Clint agreed as he finally stood up from the desk chair. He circled around the desk and sat down in the other chair in front of the desk. He had to duck to avoid hitting the balloons with his head. 

They chatted pretty aimlessly for the next forty or so minutes, just slowly getting to know each other. Clint told the story of how he got Lucky. Bruce looked vaguely horrified when Clint told him that the dog had saved him from being killed in a mugging gone wrong, and how the poor dog had nearly not survived the surgeries to treat the trauma he had sustained. Clint reassured him it had happened years ago, when Clint was still in college, and the two had become inseparable. 

Bruce told the story of his travels to parts of India for a study abroad program he had done while he was working towards his master degree, years ago. He talked about the people he had met and how he had signed on to become what was basically a nurse when he was staying in one of the impoverished areas of the massive country. Clint could hear the nostalgia in Bruce’s voice as he talked about the small acts of kindness that had been shown toward him. 

The professor was just wrapping up a story when he glanced at the clock. Clint followed the motion. 11:42.

When Bruce glanced back at him, Clint smiled. “Time to pick up Chrissie?” he asked.

Bruce returned the smile with one of his own. “If you’re still up for taking a walk through the park,” he replied as he stood up.

Clint stood up as well, and promptly bopped the balloons overhead. As Bruce huffed a laugh, Clint glanced at the lettering on the balloons again: _Welcome Back!_

“What were you being welcomed back to?” Clint asked as they both deposited their empty paper coffee cups into the trash can next to Bruce’s desk.

Bruce peered at the balloons for a moment. “Back to being a full-time teacher,” he answered before he slung his bag over his shoulder and drifted over to the door. Clint followed him through the door and out into the hall, pausing to let Bruce lock the office again. “I could only work as a part-time teacher since Chrissie was born,” he explained as they moved toward the elevator. “Since she started school this year, I’ve been able to go back to being full-time.”

Oh. 

At Clint’s silence, Bruce glanced over at him and offered a small smile. “Being a single parent is tough on the work life,” he said as the elevator arrived.

“I can imagine,” Clint replied softly.

They rode down and stepped out into the late-morning sunshine in a comfortable silence. There were a few students that passed by with a “Hey, Dr. Banner” and a wave that were politely returned by the man walking next to him.

As they were waiting on the crosswalk that led to the park, Bruce broke the hush between them. “You can ask your questions, you know,” he said quietly.

Clint peered over at him and saw the patient look on Bruce’s kind face. He really hoped he wasn’t overstepping something, but he was curious. “How…How long have you been a single parent?” he asked hesitantly, watching the other man for any discomfort.

It wasn’t discomfort that appeared on Bruce’s face, but the quiet suffering that did appear was much worse. But before Clint could retract the question, Bruce answered softly. “She left when Chrissie was three weeks old.”

Clint nearly forgot to walk when the cross signal changed. Bruce took a step that Clint didn’t, and when Bruce looked back, Clint hurriedly caught up. They walked across the street together with the rest of the pedestrians. 

They walked together for a few paces, long enough for the rest of the group of pedestrians to drift away from them, before Bruce went on. “She wasn’t ready to be a parent,” he explained in a quiet, but carefully neutral voice. “I…I guess she kept trying to convince herself, but…” He just shrugged, like he wasn’t still hurt after four and a half years alone, raising a daughter all on his own.

“I’m sorry,” Clint said faintly as they walked through the park.

Bruce turned and offered a tiny faltering smile. “It was a long time ago,” he replied. “She’s not in the picture at all, so that’s why I’ve been a part-time professor at the university before this semester. Tony was kind enough to let me do contract work from home when Chrissie was younger in the interim.”

“And Tony got you the balloons,” Clint added, both for clarification and to change the subject into something less depressing.

Sure enough, it got an amused smile out of Bruce. “Pepper had talked him out of a full-on party, thank god,” he replied, and Clint laughed.

Side by side, they walked together down the park’s pathways, chatting amicably about more stories from Bruce’s time abroad. It was nice to see Bruce smiling again after seeing such a wounded expression on his face with their talk about Chrissie’s mother. 

The preschool was this petite building in the middle of a line of small office buildings. The sign had bright colors that made it stand out from the accounting office on its right and the real estate office on its left. 

They walked up the steps together, standing out of the way for a set of parents just exiting the building with their son before they slipped inside.

Clint stood awkwardly off to the side as Bruce approached the counter and greeted the woman on the other side with a friendly smile. He watched her lead Bruce through a nearby doorway, and then promptly smiled when he heard a familiar giddy “Daddy!” from the next room.

A moment later, the woman, Bruce, and Chrissie stepped around the doorway. The little girl was talking a mile a minute about everything they had done today, but she stopped when she saw Clint lingering against the wall. 

A bright smile immediately crossed her face. “Mr. Barton!” she nearly shouted in excitement. She abandoned her place next to her father and rushed over to Clint. “You missed outside playtime! We could have done cartwheels together!”

“Uh,” Clint began, “sorry? I don’t think your teachers would want us doing cartwheels.”

Chrissie looked off in thought, her face scrunching up in concentration. “You’re right,” she agreed. “There aren’t mats outside, so it’d hurt if we fell over.”

“That’s right,” Bruce said as he came to a stop next to them, resting his hand atop his daughter’s head. “Cartwheels are for the gym or the grass.”

Chrissie grinned up at him. “Yes, Daddy,” she said dutifully. Then her attention was back on Clint. “Did you bring your puppy today?!”

“Not today,” Clint replied. “He was taking a nap when I left earlier this morning, and I didn’t want to wake him up,” he explained when the little girl’s face fell. “Maybe next time, though?” he said, his voice rising as he turned his questioning look over at Bruce. 

A gorgeous little smile touched Bruce’s lips. “Maybe next time,” he agreed, and Clint fought hard not to grin widely.

As Chrissie cheered, they walked out of the preschool to begin their trek back to campus. Bruce obligingly took the girl’s bright purple backpack and held it up when Chrissie asked him to so she could explain the picture of cartoon ponies on it to Clint.

“And that one’s Fluttershy,” she said, pointing at the yellow pegasus. “And that one’s Rarity, and that one is Rainbow Dash—she has the _prettiest_ hair—and then this one is Applejack!” She beamed up at Clint. “Fluttershy is my favorite.”

“She’s pretty cute,” Clint agreed, smiling down at the girl. “Which is your favorite, Bruce?” he asked, his smile turning into something of a grin.

While Bruce quietly hmm-ed to himself and looked thoughtfully at the backpack, Chrissie pointed to one of the cartoons. “Daddy likes Princess Twilight Sparkle,” she answered.

As Clint grinned back over at Bruce, Bruce continued to study the art on the backpack. “Honey,” he began, sounding ponderous, “which one do you think would be Mr. Barton’s favorite?”

Chrissie turned back to the backpack and studied it with the same kind of consideration as her father. “Rainbow Dash,” she finally decided with a firm nod. 

Bruce mirrored the nod and gave another hum. Their certainty in this idea made Clint smile to himself. 

They were well into the park now. Chrissie was happily swinging her father’s arm, chatting about all of the things they did in preschool that morning with Clint on her other side walking peacefully next to them. 

When they reached the point in the park where Clint had bumped into them the first time, Clint slowed a little. “I should probably go get ready for work,” he said reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the day out here with Bruce and his daughter.

“Daddy has to go back to work, too,” Chrissie said. She looked back up at Clint, her eyes going all big and hopeful. “Will you really bring your puppy next time?”

Clint felt himself smile and glance over at Bruce. “Would you be up for getting coffee again on Thursday?” he asked with the same hopefulness that the little girl had, only quieter.

The same gorgeous little smile that Clint was growing to really love looking at appeared upon Bruce’s lips. “That would be nice,” Bruce answered softly but genuinely.

Clint grinned jubilantly and returned his focus to Chrissie. “Then I really will bring Lucky next time,” he replied, grinning wider when a look of pure happiness spread across Chrissie’s face. 

They lingered on the walkway for a moment before Bruce glanced down the path toward where campus was. “We need to get going,” he said softly. When he looked back at Clint, it was with a small and hesitant smile. “We’ll see you Thursday?” he asked.

Clint returned the smile with one of his own. “I’ll see you both Thursday,” he confirmed. He took a step backwards down the path that would take him back to his apartment building. “Thank you for the coffee. I’m buying next time.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bruce replied, the hesitance gone from his face. He just looked peacefully content, and the sight made Clint smile again. “Have a good day at work.”

“Good luck with your classes,” Clint returned as he started walking backwards down the path. “See you later, Chrissie!”

“Bye, Mr. Barton!” the little girl called, waving her free arm furiously.

They went their separate ways, and as Clint stole one last look over his shoulder at the father and daughter, he found that he already couldn’t wait for Thursday morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

“Oh,” Steve began after their waiter had dropped off Clint’s drink, “how was your date?”

“Which one?” Clint asked without thinking, and across the table, Bucky nearly choked on his small sip of beer.

It was Tuesday evening, only hours after Clint had left Bruce and Chrissie in the park to head into work. Tuesday and Thursday afternoons always ended with Bucky’s appointment. Sam hadn’t been able to make it today, but Steve never missed one as it was customary to always find Steve where Bucky was. 

It was also customary for them to meet up at the bar near his apartment building after his archery lessons on Tuesday nights. Steve and Bucky were already there when Clint walked in around 8:20.

“Which one?” Bucky repeated once he had swallowed his mouthful of beer and coughed. “How many dates have you had with the guy? Or was this a date with someone else?”

“Just two,” Clint answered as he turned the bottle with his hands, “and yes, they were both with the same guy.”

Steve smiled brightly from his place next to Bucky. “So your first date went well, then,” he said. 

Clint shrugged a little and helped himself to a swig of beer. “It was a bit awkward,” he admitted. “Today went better, though. We just got coffee in between his classes earlier.”

“So he’s a teacher?” Steve asked. “At the university?”

“Yeah,” Clint answered. “Physics professor. Guy’s a genius,” he said, smiling a little at the memory of Bruce’s blush when he had admitted to having two doctorates.

“What’s his name?” Bucky asked, pulling his phone out of his jean’s pocket and bringing the screen to life with his good hand. He hadn’t quite mastered touch-screen technology with his new metal fingers yet. 

Clint hesitated for a moment, recalling Bruce saying that there were _unflattering characterizations_ of himself on _Rate My Professor,_ but he was curious. “Banner,” he finally answered. “Dr. Bruce Banner.”

The three of them sat in silence as Bucky ran the search. Clint fiddled almost nervously with his beer bottle, letting his fingers run through the condensation on the glass. He looked up with a jerk when Bucky let out an interested hum and gave a nod.

“He’s pretty cute,” Steve said, leaning closer to look at the screen.

“For an academic type,” Bucky added.

Clint scoffed. “Just ‘cause I don’t like ‘em muscle-bound and blond,” he retorted, trailing off with a grin when a faint blush touched Steve’s cheeks. “Lemme see.”

Bucky handed over the phone before Clint could snatch it. The screen wasn’t on _Rate My Professor,_ but was instead on the university’s faculty page for the physics department. The picture was a good one, professionally done, though Bruce’s hair was darker and just a touch neater. 

“This is an older photo of him,” Clint said, handing back the phone. “His hair is greying and is fluffier than that.”

“Fluffier?” Bucky repeated with a small and curious smirk.

“Yeah,” Clint said. He was about to attempt to describe it when he remembered he actually had a photo on his phone. He grinned and dug his phone out. “Yeah,” he said again, scrolling through the recent text message conversations until he found the picture Bruce had sent him after their disaster of a dinner date last week. 

He pulled up the photo and turned the screen around. “See? Fluffier.”

Steve and Bucky leaned in to look at the photo and almost immediately their expressions softened. “He has a kid?” Steve asked, glancing briefly up from the phone to look at Clint.

“Yeah, that’s Chrissie,” Clint answered. “She’s four and a half and obsessed with ponies.”

“Is he recently divorced or something?” Bucky asked as he leaned back.

“No, the mother left a long time ago, just after she was born,” Clint replied, turning his phone back around so he could look at the happy picture Bruce had sent him after spotting Sagittarius after their first date. “I don’t know if he was ever married to her, though.”

A hush passed between them for a lingering moment in which they sipped at their beers. Their waiter came back with their order of nachos.

It wasn’t until the waiter was walking off that Steve focused on Clint again. “How did you two even meet?” he asked. “I didn’t think you took students that young for your archery classes.”

“I was helping Tasha out with her Saturday morning gymnastics class,” Clint answered, smiling a little at the memory. “Darcy couldn’t make it, so Tasha volunteered me.”

“You mean _bribed_ you,” Bucky corrected him with a knowing smirk.

Clint shrugged. “I’m not one to turn down free food,” he returned, drawing a huff of laughter from the two men across from him. “Anyway,” he went on, “Chrissie is in the class, so that’s how I met Bruce. We’re still getting to know each other, so I don’t know if you could really say we’re dating yet.”

“Dinner and coffee sound like dates,” Bucky said, and beside him, Steve nodded.

Clint shrugged again, but he couldn’t help but feel that they were right on some level. Both instances were worthy of the title “date,” but they had agreed to take it slow since they were both out of practice and nervous. They had felt a little like dates, but they were still just learning more about one another. It was a good way to start a relationship, Clint thought. He had never dated a stranger before. He and Phil had been friends for a few months before they moved to the next step. Same with Jess. 

They were taking it slow so neither of them would scare the other off. If that just meant coffee dates twice a week until they grew comfortable enough to move to the next step, Clint was perfectly okay with that.

==

Three coffee dates later, that step came.

Saturday morning, Clint found himself at the gym for the children’s gymnastic class again. Darcy had smirked when he walked in and made a comment about seeing if they should talk with Bossman Fury about having Clint get paid as an assistant instructor instead of just volunteering his time. Natasha had only smiled and told him that they were going to start working on handstands and bridges.

They got the gym set up and the kids began to arrive. Clint immediately lit up when Bruce and Chrissie walked in, and his chest warmed when Bruce caught his eye and waved with an affectionate smile. 

Clint was growing more and more familiar with that smile, and each time it did funny things to his chest and belly. It was an intoxicating feeling, and it always sent a rush through him to know that he was the one to put that smile on Bruce’s face. It was true that they had only stuck with coffee dates for the past two weeks, but they were growing comfortable with one another.

Chrissie beamed when she saw Clint across the gym, too, and she tugged on Bruce’s hand. Her dad leaned down and murmured something quietly to her, and the little girl clapped a hand over her mouth, but failed to hide her radiant smile.

The class proceeded as normal. The kids learned how to do bridges and only a few managed a handstand for a couple of seconds before being caught as they toppled over. Most importantly, no one got hurt. 

The kids were great, and while they all showed the kind of concentration typical for children their ages, Clint noticed how giggly Chrissie got whenever she looked at Clint. He glanced across the gym over at Bruce in his confusion, but Bruce only smiled and gave an innocent little shrug that Clint didn’t trust in the least.

When the class ended, the kids rushed off to the bleachers. Clint watched as Chrissie nearly tackled Bruce with an excited hug. Bruce laughed and caught her, and Clint had to force himself to look away to begin cleaning up the gym with Natasha and Darcy. That didn’t make the tiny smile of endearment leave his face, though.

The rest of the families left in the next few minutes. When Natasha and Darcy moved off to a different portion of the gym, Clint turned in time to see Chrissie rushing at him. Bruce was walking casually after her, hands in his pockets and a tiny smile upon his lips.

“Mr. Barton!” Chrissie said excitedly when she reached him. She took both of his hands in hers and began jumping in place. “Come look at stars with us!”

Clint felt his breath catch and he immediately looked to Bruce.

The other man had stopped a few short paces away and was watching Clint, still smiling softly. “It’s going to be a clear night,” Bruce explained quietly, “and not too cold. If…If you don’t have anything else planned, we’d like you to join us.”

Clint stared for a moment longer, at a complete loss for words, when there was a light tug on his hands. He looked down and saw Chrissie staring up at him with her big blue eyes. If he had had any reservations before looking down at her (and he really hadn’t), he didn’t now. He had no idea how Bruce could ever say no to that face.

He glanced back at Bruce. “I don’t want to intrude on dad-daughter time,” he said softly.

He was rewarded with another warm smile from Bruce, and his stomach did that weird fluttery thing again. “You wouldn’t be intruding in the least,” Bruce assured him.

“Yeah,” Chrissie agreed, drawing Clint’s eyes back to her briefly. “Daddy asked, and I said you could come. Sometimes my friend Sammie comes, so Daddy can bring a friend sometimes, too!”

Clint smiled at that, but it faltered a little when he met Bruce’s eyes again. The quiet hope on his face made any other resistance he may have had crumble and melt away. No wonder Chrissie was so good at the pleading look.

“Well,” Clint began, drawing out the word, “if you’re sure…”

Chrissie immediately beamed and started hopping in her excitement, but Bruce was still a picture of calm and quiet anticipation. His smile was all the reassurance Clint needed.

“Okay,” Clint said, and Chrissie cheered. Clint grinned down at the ecstatic little girl before he looked back at Bruce. “Should I meet you somewhere, or…?”

The relief and pleased look on Bruce’s face were nearly outshone by the gorgeous smile that crossed his face. “I can pick you up, if you’d like. You’re right around campus, right?”

“Yep,” Clint replied, hardly able to stop smiling at the knowledge that he had another date—what had the potential to be an _actual date_ —with Bruce tonight. “I’ll text you my address.”

“I’ll pick you up around seven?” Bruce asked, sounding hopeful again.

Clint beamed radiantly. “Seven sounds great,” he replied. “I’ll see you both then.”

Bruce smiled peacefully again. “We’ll see you then,” he said softly. He then looked down at Chrissie. “Come on, honey,” he said, “we need to get going.”

“See you later, Mr. Barton!” Chrissie said from where she was still hanging from Clint’s hands, and giggled when Clint grinned at her and lightly jostled her arms.

Clint watched them head out, waving when they turned to wave farewell. Once they were gone, he glanced over to see Darcy and Natasha looking at him, both of them with smiles on their faces.

“This is too cute,” Darcy said with an infatuated sigh. “Romance on the gym floor.” She laughed when Clint made a face, but his mind was already on that evening.

==

Around six-fifty that evening, Clint headed out of his apartment and went to sit on the front steps of the building. He waved to a few of his neighbors as they passed by, either coming in or heading out for the night. 

His stomach was swimming with nerves. He hadn’t had the full few days to work himself up into a panic like he did for their dinner date, which was probably for the best, but the few hours in between the end of gymnastics practice and now had given him time to get anxious. 

He wanted this to go well. Bruce was ready to move forward just a little, and Clint wanted to make sure Bruce wouldn’t think it was a mistake to take that next step.

He perked up and felt his heart skip a beat when Bruce’s car pulled up to the curb. Clint was up on his feet and moving forward before the car had even come to a complete stop. He peeked in through the window just to be sure he wasn’t about to hop into a stranger’s car (wouldn’t be the first time), and he grinned wide when he saw Bruce’s smile.

“Hey,” Clint said as he slipped into the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Bruce replied, still smiling.

“Hi, Mr. Barton!” Chrissie said from the back. Clint twisted around and found the little girl buckled securely into a car seat. She grinned radiantly when their eyes met.

Clint returned her smile with a bright one of his own. “Hi Chrissie,” he replied. “Did you have a nice day?”

“Yeah!” she answered happily. “We went to the library and got some new books, and then we went to Sammie’s house for lunch.”

“Tony and Pepper’s house,” Bruce interjected softly for clarification.

“Sounds like you guys had a busy day,” Clint commented as he buckled in.

“And now we get to look at the stars with you, Mr. Barton!” Chrissie said, kicking her feet a little.

Clint glanced over at Bruce as the car got back on the road. “Uh, if it’s okay with your dad, you can call me Clint when we’re not at the gym,” he said, peering briefly back at Chrissie before looking back at Bruce.

“That sounds just fine to me,” Bruce replied with a smile.

Clint grinned and twisted in his seat to look at Chrissie again. “I’ll just be Clint tonight,” he said.

“Yay, Clint!” Chrissie said with a bright smile.

“Yay,” Clint agreed with a grin, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Bruce smile quietly to himself.

When they were back on the main road, Bruce peered briefly over at him. “How was your archery class earlier?”

“It went great,” Clint replied, feeling a radiant smile cross his face. “Two of my younger students were able to hit their mark at forty feet. Everyone’s aim is improving so much. My boss thinks we may be able to begin a series of archery classes instead of just the simpler levels I’m teaching now.”

“That’s great,” Bruce congratulated him, breaking his focus on the road for only a moment to shoot Clint this sweet and gorgeous smile. “Would your friend you wanted to do the summer camp with help out?”

“Y’know, I’m not sure,” Clint admitted. “Kate doesn’t work at the gym, but I bet she’d jump all over this. I’ll have to tell her about it the next time I see her.”

They drove away from the city as the sun continued to set. The radio was tuned to something kid-friendly, and occasionally Chrissie would ask for Bruce to turn up the volume and she’d dance in her car seat. 

Both she and Bruce laughed when Clint joined in with her dancing to some teen pop-star song, the kind he heard Darcy listen to occasionally. He only grinned and tried to coordinate his dancing with Chrissie’s, which had her giggling wildly.

Just as the last rays of sunlight were beginning to fade into night, the car began to slow down. Clint glanced out the window and saw they were on a stretch of open road with the city far behind them. The stars were just starting to come out, twinkling in the growing darkness.

Clint looked out the window at where they were. The grass wasn’t overgrown like he would expect from an open field next to the open road. “Where are we?” he asked, still staring out the window.

“We’re on the edge of a park,” Bruce explained as the car rocked to a full stop. “This area has lots of bike trails and fields for little league sports, but it’s great for stargazing.” He turned in his seat and glanced back at Chrissie. “Ready?”

The little girl beamed and nodded her head.

They all got out of the car and Clint took another look around the park as Bruce helped Chrissie out of her car seat. The grass on the field was empty, giving them the privacy to enjoy their time out here.

“Daddy, can I carry something?”

Clint turned around to see Bruce handing Chrissie a folded thin blanket. The little girl bundled the sheet into her arms and began to fiddle with the edge of the fabric as Bruce ducked back into the car to grab something else.

“Do you need any help?” Clint asked.

Bruce came out of the car holding a plastic bag and a fairly large thermos. “You can carry this, if you’d like,” Bruce said, offering the thermos.

Clint took it in his hands. “What’s in here?” he asked curiously.

Chrissie grinned up at him. “Daddy always makes hot chocolate when we look at stars,” she said. “Daddy makes the _best_ hot chocolate. Even Susie thinks so.”

“One of the girls who live in the neighborhood,” Bruce explained as he locked up the car. He looked down at his daughter. “You got it?” he asked, watching her readjust her hold on the sheet.

“I got it,” Chrissie affirmed with a determined nod.

Together, the three of them left the car behind and wandered out into the trimmed grass. It was getting darker, so Bruce kept his eye on Chrissie in case she fell or something. Clint followed after them, feeling his nerves creep up on him again now that they were out of the car. 

They reached a spot and they set everything down in the grass. The three of them all spread the sheet out together, smoothing out any folds in the blanket. By the time they were settled, the last of the colors of the sunset were fading into night. The stars overhead shone and twinkled, more of them beginning to shine as the last of the light disappeared. 

“Have you ever looked at the stars?” Chrissie asked Clint once they were sitting on the blanket. 

“It’s been a long time,” Clint replied, peering upward for a moment and thinking back. “I don’t know many of the constellations.”

“Then Daddy should be in the middle,” Chrissie decided. Before either of the adults could respond, she crawled over to the right side of the blanket and flopped onto her back. She shifted until she was comfortable before she looked over at them and patted the blanket beside her.

As Clint snorted a soft laugh, Bruce obligingly lay down beside her on his back so they could watch the heavens without straining their necks. 

Clint hesitated for a moment before he lay down, but when both Bruce and Chrissie looked over at him, he followed their example and lay down on his back. He left some space between himself and Bruce, anxious to not make anyone uncomfortable. 

They laid there quietly for a few minutes, just looking up at the stars, until Chrissie let out a delighted gasp and pointed up. “Daddy, I found the Little Dipper!” She traced her outstretched finger along the sky. “There’s the cup, and there’s the handle.”

“Very good,” Bruce praised softly. He glanced over at Clint. “Do you see it?” he asked.

Clint glanced back at the sky, trying to find what Chrissie had described, but with no luck. “I… no,” he answered after a moment. “All I see is the Big Dipper.”

Bruce looked up at the stars again and Clint nibbled on his lip. How was a four year old able to so easily find a constellation out of millions of stars with such ease?

“There it is,” Bruce said to himself a moment later. Clint glanced over and found Bruce pointing up with his left arm, the arm closest to Clint. “Look at the Big Dipper,” he began, tracing what was likely the constellation with his finger, “and then look at the cup portion of it. Now, if you look at what would make the top portion of the cup and look downward, the next brightest star you should see is Polaris. Do you see it?”

Clint followed Bruce’s instructions and let his eyes drift away from the Big Dipper until he spotted a nearby bright star. “I think so,” he murmured. 

“From Polaris,” Bruce went on, now tracing with his finger again, “connect the next few stars to the right, and—”

“Oh wow,” Clint blurted, prompting a giggle out of Chrissie, “it’s the Little Dipper!” He could actually see it, the handle and the cup and everything. Seeing it now, he wondered how he had never actually found it in the past. “Is it normally this visible?” he asked, twisting to look at Bruce and promptly feeling his breath catch.

Bruce had his head turned and was watching him with this gorgeous little smile on his face. His eyes seemed to sparkle like the stars overhead, and Clint couldn’t help but stare at the gorgeous sight before him.

“Once you know to look for Polaris, it’s a lot easier to find,” Bruce answered before he glanced back up at the sky. “There’s Cepheus,” he said, pointing again.

“Where?” Clint and Chrissie asked together, looking back at the stars. 

“Find Polaris again,” Bruce instructed gently, “and then look just a hair down to the next brightest star. Do you see it?”

“Yes,” Chrissie said after a moment of searching.

“Yeah,” Clint replied once he had located the right star. 

“This constellation looks a bit like a basic house,” Bruce explained. “The star you’re looking at is the top of the roof. Now,” he went on, letting his other hand rise so both of his index fingers were pointing at the single star, “go off in lines like so—” He let his fingers draw diagonals in the sky. “—until you reach those two stars. From there, go in straight lines until you see those two stars there. Connect them all together, and you have Cepheus.”

There was a moment of quiet as Clint and Chrissie followed the instructions, creating what should have been a basic house-like structure in the stars. 

“Why is Cepheus a house in the sky?” Chrissie asked, sounding confused.

“Well, Cepheus is meant to be the King,” Bruce explained. “The tip of our roof is actually King Cepheus’ knee, and that point there is meant to be his head or crown,” he said, pointing.

“It doesn’t look anything like a king,” the little girl protested, “unless he was King of the Houses or something.”

“I kinda agree,” Clint added with a small grin. 

Bruce huffed a small laugh and raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t make these things up,” he said. “I’m just the storyteller here.”

“Which one’s next?” Chrissie asked eagerly, shuffling closer to her dad.

“How about Cygnus, the Swan,” Bruce said, and then led the pair in how to locate the constellation.

The next hour or so followed the same pattern. Bruce would pick out a constellation and guide Chrissie and Clint through how to find it with the kind of patience that must have come from being a teacher for so long—or just from being a dad. It was just so peaceful to lie there under the night sky and let Bruce’s gentle voice lead him on a voyage through the stars. Each constellation came with a story, from Aquila and Hercules, to Aquarius and—to Chrissie’s delight—Pegasus. 

They took a break to enjoy some hot chocolate, kept warm by the thermos.

“Isn’t it the best hot chocolate ever?” Chrissie asked eagerly when Clint had made a sound of pleasure around his sip of the warm drink. “All of my friends love Daddy’s hot chocolate.”

“I can see why,” Clint replied, turning a smile over at Bruce before taking another sip of the delicious drink.

After they were finished with their drinks, they went back to stargazing. When they lay back down, Clint left a little less space between himself and Bruce. 

Half an hour later, Bruce was finishing up explaining Pisces. For a few peaceful heartbeats, the three of them sat in the darkness under the stars, content to just look up at the heavens.

A few minutes passed before Bruce spoke up softly. “Let me know if I’m boring you,” he requested in a small voice, turning his head to glance hesitantly at the man next to him.

Clint looked away from the stars and at Bruce, searching his features in the dim light of the stars. “No, this is interesting,” he replied quietly. “I never learned about, like, any of this. It’s pretty cool.” He paused to glance up at the sky again, smiling when he easily found the Little Dipper amidst the rest of the stars. “How do you know so much about this stuff?” he asked, peering over at Bruce again.

In the dim starlight, Clint managed to make out the small nostalgic smile that crossed Bruce’s face. “My mom and I used to do stuff like this when I was little,” he answered, letting his eyes drift back to the sky.

Clint smiled to himself and kept watching the man next to him. “I bet you were thrilled when Chrissie started getting into this kind of stuff.”

A huff of laughter escaped from Bruce. “Yeah,” he replied. He glanced to his other side, but whatever he was about to add on to that comment never made it past his lips. 

Clint propped himself up onto his elbows and peered over Bruce. Chrissie was fast asleep, curled against Bruce with part of the sheet tugged over her tiny body. She must have fallen asleep sometime while Bruce was explaining the intricacies of Pisces.

“How late is it?” Clint asked, lowering his voice in deference to the sleeping child. “Should we head back?”

“It’s just a little after nine,” Bruce answered in a whisper as he settled back against the sheet. “Unless you want to head back, we can stay for a little longer.”

Clint pondered what they should do. The responsible thing would be to head back so Bruce could get his daughter to bed, but part of him wanted to stay out as long as possible to just enjoy this with Bruce. 

Before he could make a decision, however, Bruce made a soft humming sound of contentment. “There’s the Archer.” 

Clint’s eyes immediately went back to the sky. “Sagittarius?” he asked, scanning the stars even though he had no idea what he was looking for. He lay back down on the sheet.

Next to him, Bruce nodded. “It’s easier to spot in August, since it’s a summer constellation, but it looks like he decided to make an appearance tonight after all.” He pointed up with the arm closest to Clint. “There’s Aquila,” he said.

It took him a moment, but Clint finally found the desired constellation. “Aquila. Got it.” He marveled for a moment that he was able to find a constellation he hadn’t ever heard of so easily.

“Now,” Bruce continued, shifting his extended finger slightly, “if you look off in this direction, you’ll see an asterism in the shape of a teapot.”

“A what?” Clint asked distractedly, looking for a teapot in the sky.

“Sorry. An asterism is a pattern of stars,” Bruce answered. He kept pointing. “Do you see the teapot?”

Clint let his eyes scan the heavens again where Bruce was pointing, but he was having trouble. “I’m not seeing a teapot,” he said slowly after another moment.

There was a second of quiet between them before Bruce patted the space between them. “Come a little closer,” the other man said, and Clint immediately felt his heart skip a beat.

When his eyes shot away from the sky and to Bruce, he found the man watching him almost expectantly. Once their eyes met, Bruce smiled and patted the sheet again. “I’d move closer, but I don’t want to wake Chrissie up.”

Clint hesitated for only a second more before he scooted closer. When he settled again, he could feel some of the heat coming off of the man’s body and that nervous jittery feeling returned to his stomach tenfold. 

That feeling went up again when Bruce’s arm brushed his as it rose to point to the heavens again. “Find Aquila again,” Bruce instructed gently, his voice so soft that Clint kind of just wanted to sink into the warmth of it.

Shaking off that thought, Clint followed Bruce’s extended finger and easily found the desired constellation. “Alright,” he said, raising his right arm when he found it. He tried not to think about how close their arms were.

“Good,” Bruce went on softly. His hand moved just slightly, brushing against Clint’s as he pointed to a different cluster in the stars. “Now, do you see that bright star there?” he asked.

Clint focused on the sky and let his own hand move in the same way Bruce’s had done. He found a pretty bright star. “I think so,” he replied in a low murmur, conscious of the way his and Bruce’s arms were brushing one another.

“Now connect this string of stars together, and that will make the top of the teapot,” Bruce instructed, letting his arm gently guide Clint’s along the stars.

With how focused Clint was on the feeling of Bruce’s arm against his, he nearly didn’t spot it, but once he had the line formed, the rest of the teapot suddenly popped out. “Oh!” he exclaimed quietly, a bright smile spreading across his face. “That’s the teapot!” 

He could hear the smile in Bruce’s voice as the other man continued. “That star that makes the spout of our teapot is Sagittarius’s arrowhead, and the handle is Sagittarius nocking his arrow. The rest of the constellation branches away from the teapot.” Bruce let his finger move off. “There’s his head, and his elbow, and there’s his centaur’s body.”

Clint stared up at the sky, easily seeing the imaginary lines that made up the constellation of the Archer. “That’s so cool,” he whispered. He let his finger trace along the constellation. “I’ve _never_ been able to see Sagittarius before.”

Bruce let his arm rest back against the sheet. “As long as you know to look for the teapot, you shouldn’t have any more trouble,” he replied pleasantly. “Interesting thing about Sagittarius, actually; it actually points toward the center of our galaxy. If we were somewhere even darker, you’d be able to see some of the Milky Way up there.”

“Wow,” Clint breathed, letting his arm fall. 

He nearly jumped when his fingers brushed across Bruce’s knuckles. There was an intake of air from Bruce, not sharp but sudden, and Clint felt his pulse speed up.

Before he could pull his hand away, though, Bruce carefully turned his arm so their palms came hesitantly together. Their hands stayed like that for several rapid heartbeats, and neither of them spoke nor even looked at one another, opting instead to stare unseeing up at the stars. Bruce’s hand was still warm and soft, like it had been when they properly introduced themselves in the park that day, but it felt so inviting. It felt just so…so _right._

Another several moments passed before their fingers slowly interlaced, each movement so fractional and sluggish that it hardly registered until they were actually holding hands. 

They stayed like that, both of them afraid to do anything more to upset the moment. There were no comforting squeezes, no gentle brushing of fingertips against skin, just this: just letting their hands rest together for the first time, soaking in the warmth and acceptance from the welcome touch.

Silent and still reeling from the unexpected jump forward, they stared up at the stars. Clint knew something like a breathless smile had touched his lips and he could feel the heat in his face, but his blush was hidden in the dimness of the starlight. His eyes traced across the heavens until he found Sagittarius again, and his smile widened.

“Does Sagittarius have a story?” Clint asked softly a minute later, loath as he was to break the hush between them. 

Bruce jumped slightly, like he had been lost in his own thoughts. “Yes,” he answered after a moment, but there was something notably happy in his voice that had Clint smiling again as Bruce began to explain the mythology of the constellation. Clint listened, but he found himself concentrating more on the points of contact between them and of the warmth of Bruce’s hand.

They lapsed into another hush when the explanation ended, and neither of them tried to fill the quiet. They settled under the stars and with each other, content to just share the moment with one another. 

Clint wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, staring up at the stars in a comfortable silence. It could have been minutes or hours, spent simply with Bruce and watching the slow trek the stars made across the night sky, their hands never separating.

The quiet was broken by a sleepy sound, followed by the small shifts of moving fabric. Clint felt Bruce turn to look at his daughter, who didn’t wake up but was snuggling closer to her father. 

“Time to head back?” Clint asked in a low whisper.

“Probably a good idea,” Bruce answered at an equal volume. 

Reluctantly, their hands released. Bruce carefully gathered Chrissie up into his arms without waking her up, a true testament to the kind of trust the two of them had. Once Bruce had stood up, Clint quickly folded the sheet and packed their used cups back into the plastic bag before he grabbed the thermos.

“How do you usually manage to carry everything and a sleeping child when you and Chrissie stargaze?” Clint asked softly as they started the walk back to the car. He could still feel the warmth from Bruce’s hand against his palm and fingers, and he treasured the feeling.

Bruce carefully brushed a stray lock of hair out of Chrissie’s eyes from where her head was pillowed on his shoulder. “We normally call it a night when she starts to get sleepy,” he answered quietly.

They got to the car and Bruce unlocked the vehicle. With practiced ease and loving care, he transferred Chrissie from his arms and into her car seat without disturbing her. Clint set the plastic bag of cups, the sheet, and the thermos on the floor behind the passenger seat before he climbed into the front seat. 

Bruce slipped into the driver’s seat once Chrissie was buckled in. Once the car doors were shut as quietly as possible, Bruce paused before starting the car. His eyes drifted to Clint, looking hesitant again.

Clint offered him a wordless smile, and the relief that went through him when Bruce returned it was palpable. 

They were both still smiling a little foolishly as Bruce started the car and turned the radio down. Clint glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard and smiled wider when he saw it was a little after ten. They had laid there in silence, holding hands peacefully for about an hour. 

While the car pulled back onto the road and they began to make their way back to the city, Clint studied the sky, finding the constellations they had looked at earlier in the evening. He spotted Sagittarius between the trees zipping by and felt himself smile.

The car ride passed in a comfortable silence since Clint didn’t want to risk waking Chrissie up. It gave him the time to think about everything that had happened since that morning, when he had agreed to go stargazing with Bruce and his daughter. He thought about how nervous he had gotten in the time before Bruce had picked him up, but the evening had gone wonderfully. There had been lulls in the conversation, but it wasn’t like that first dinner date when they had each tried to fill the silences. No, these had been comfortable silences; it had been a long time since Clint had been able to enjoy such silences with someone else that wasn’t just a friend.

He wondered what that meant for him and Bruce.

It took the vehicle slowing down to draw Clint from his thoughts, and he blinked back into awareness. When the car came to a stop outside his apartment building, he unbuckled his seatbelt. He was about to bid Bruce goodnight, but paused when Bruce turned off the car.

Their eyes met, and Bruce offered a warm little smile. “I’ll walk you up,” he said softly.

Clint grinned. “ _Such_ a gentleman,” he said.

A soft laugh escaped from Bruce as the phrase from their first dinner date, and they both slipped out of the car, careful not to wake Chrissie. 

Clint waited for Bruce to come around to the passenger side of the vehicle, and almost immediately their hands joined again. The ease of the motion made Clint grin a little giddily, and with the aid of a nearby streetlight, he was able to see the gorgeous smile on Bruce’s face. 

Together, they walked slowly across the sidewalk and up the steps of the apartment building, their hands still latched together comfortably. They paused on the threshold of the entranceway, meeting each other’s eyes but not saying anything for a moment.

“Thank you for inviting me out with you guys tonight,” Clint finally said, breaking the quiet between them. “I had a really great time.”

Bruce smiled. “I’m glad you could join us,” he answered. “Thank you for coming.”

They lapsed into another brief hush. Their eyes lingered on each other, but Clint focused again on the feeling of Bruce’s hand in his. It had only been an accidental brush of skin, but Bruce had taken the leap and Clint couldn’t be happier.

It was his turn to take the leap.

Before he could psyche himself out of it, Clint quickly leaned forward and planted a soft kiss against Bruce’s cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. It was just a gentle press of lips against warm skin, slightly rough with a day’s growth of stubble. 

When Clint pulled back, almost terrified to see the reaction, he found Bruce staring at him with wide eyes and slack-jawed. Their eyes met again, and for a moment, they just stared at one another.

But before the terror could consume him, the corners of Bruce’s lips slowly began to turn upward in astonishment. The shock in those deliciously warm brown eyes melted away until his eyes were glittering with surprise and delight. 

Clint felt the terror dissipate into breathless joy and an enormous smile threatened to cross his face. “I’ll see you on Tuesday morning for coffee?” he asked, managing to keep the stammer from his voice even though he felt like he could shake apart with his relief and giddiness.

The tiny smile on Bruce’s face made something in Clint melt with how happy it was. “I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he confirmed with an affectionate lilt to his voice that made Clint want to smile even more.

Their hands tightened for just a moment before they released and they both took a step back from each other. “Get home safe,” Clint said softly.

Bruce smiled again. “We will,” he replied quietly. “Have a good night, Clint.”

“Goodnight, Bruce,” Clint breathed. 

It took another moment, and Clint was almost certain he saw Bruce’s eyes drift to his lips for a fraction of a second, before Bruce gave him another breath-taking smile and took a step back.

Clint stayed rooted to the spot at the top of the steps, watching Bruce return to his car. They exchanged waves and giddy smiles one last time before Bruce slipped into the vehicle. Clint waved again as the car’s headlights flickered on and off as it pulled back into the street and on its way home.

Even after the taillights had faded into the night, Clint stayed where he was. He could still feel the tingle of skin against his lips and the warmth from Bruce’s hand against his palm and fingers. His chest felt tight, but not with the nerves it had been filled with earlier in the evening, but with pleasure. 

Clint tipped his head back, smiling happily to himself as he stared up at the stars that were visible in the city. He found the Little Dipper and felt his smile widen.

After lingering on the steps for a few more minutes to ensure he could make the walk up to his apartment without melting in his happiness, he walked inside.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone?” Kate asked after she fired her arrow. It hit its mark dead on.

There were certain rituals people had for Sunday mornings. For some, it was getting the family dressed up and heading to church. For others, it was a day to sleep in or sleep off a hangover from partying on Saturday nights.

For Clint, it meant his weekly trip to the shooting range with Kate Bishop. 

Clint didn’t move or reply to Kate’s question, instead letting himself feel the burn in his muscles as he kept his arrow nocked. He simply breathed, and when he finally fired the arrow, it landed dead center in his target fifty yards away.

As he stretched his arms, he peered over at her. When he saw the look on her face—distinctly unimpressed and waiting—he smiled a little sheepishly. “To be fair, last night felt like our real first date.”

“Okay, firstly,” Kate began, holding up the index finger on her hand that wasn’t holding her bow, “ew. I don’t want to know what you and your date did _last night.”_

Clint immediately felt his face heat up. “What? N-No, we didn’t—”

“And secondly,” Kate plowed on over his stammering protests, “what you just said implies that last night wasn’t your first date, meaning you two have been dating for at least a few days. Which ultimately leads me back to my original question: why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone?”

For all of her no-nonsense tone, Clint knew she was only giving him a hard time, but he also knew she wasn’t happy about being kept in the dark about something like this. Their Sunday morning target practice sessions were also catching-up sessions for as long as they had known each other.

“I…” Clint began slowly, “I honestly wasn’t sure it’d progress into anything,” he admitted. “I’m serious,” he added when she quirked an eyebrow. “We’re really different, and after that dinner date we had a few weeks ago, I just…”

“ _Weeks_ ago?” Kate repeated. Clint’s eyes widened slightly, but Kate just shook her head and drew another arrow. “You’re hopeless,” she teased as she lined up her next shot, a smile tugging on her lips.

Clint let out a breath and pulled an arrow from his quiver. 

In the comfortable silence between them, they continued their target practice. Clint didn’t know what he’d do without these sessions to round out his week. Between the workout and the company, he was able to begin his work week anew refreshed and rejuvenated without fail.

Just as Clint was getting ready to fire his shot, Kate spoke up. “So, when do I get to meet them?” 

The shot fired in his surprise, but it still hit his mark dead on.

He turned and saw the amused disappointment on her face that her interruption hadn’t ruined his shot. He grinned almost smugly at her dismay, and then promptly laughed when she swatted at him. 

“Well?” she pressed.

“I don’t know,” Clint answered. “We’re taking things really slow, and he’s a little shy. I don’t want to subject him to my friends until we’re more comfortable, y’know?”

She snorted a laugh at that, but the agreement on her face was all he needed to see to know that she understood. “How slow are we talking?” she asked

Clint thought back to their date last night and felt a sappy smile touch his lips. “Well,” he began, “we’ve known each other for about a month now, and last night we went out to look at the stars and we…uh…” He faltered, feeling himself blush just a little despite himself. “We held hands,” he finished a little lamely, waiting for her to start laughing. He didn’t mention the kiss, since it hadn’t really been a _real_ kiss.

Kate smiled, but didn’t laugh. “Aww,” she said, “you _like_ him.” Her tone was both teasing and affectionate as she reached over and rustled his hair. “You guys really _are_ moving slow.”

“Well, neither of us have dated anyone in a while,” he said, shooing away her hand. “We’re going at a pace we’re comfortable with. I mean, it’s a pretty big change, especially for him.”

“First time dating another man?” Kate asked, smirking.

“No, I—Well, maybe,” Clint corrected himself, wondering about that for a moment before he continued with his train of thought. “What I meant is that he’s been single since his maybe-wife, maybe-girlfriend left him with an infant four and a half years ago. It’s a pretty big change for him, getting back into the dating scene.”

The smile on Kate’s face quickly vanished. “Oh wow,” she said softly. “You’re dating someone with a kid?”

“Why is that so surprising?” Clint asked a little defensively. “First Steve and Bucky, now you?”

“Because you’re an overgrown child yourself,” Kate replied, grinning when Clint pouted at her. “It’s just a little surprising, but if you’re happy, that’s what matters.”

Clint smiled to himself and drew another arrow. “Y’know,” he said softly, “I think I am.”

The silence that fell between them was peaceful.

==

After Clint had tossed his frozen dinner meal into the microwave in the break room at the gym, he tossed the box with the nutritional values in the trash and dug out his phone. The break room was normally empty around two o’clock in the afternoon, when he typically took his lunch break on his long Monday and Friday shifts. 

As the microwave whirred on behind him, Clint flopped down onto one of the plastic chairs at the empty table and powered on his phone. 

His brow immediately furrowed when he saw he had a voice mail. He checked to see who had tried calling him, and when he saw Bruce’s name and number listed, anxiousness immediately went through him. They hadn’t called each other in the time they’ve known one another. 

Ignoring the beeping microwave, he opened up his voice mail and pressed his phone against his ear. As the standard automated voice informed him that he did indeed miss a call earlier in the day, his fingers began to drum a pattern against the table.

Finally, the message played. There was a beat of silence, as if Bruce thought of hanging up, before he started speaking.

_“…Um, yeah. Hi Clint. I figure you’re probably at work right now, so I’m not sure when you’re going to get this.”_ He sounded almost distracted. _“Anyway, when you do, give me a call. I’ll have my cell on me all day. Uh…hope you’re having a good Monday, and I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”_

Clint replayed the message one more time. Bruce had definitely sounded distracted and a bit nervous, and Clint immediately found himself growing anxious. The message was left a little after 10:45 that morning, just after he had arrived at the gym for his first appointment of the week. He knew that Bruce was probably busy doing work in the research lab right about now, but it was nearly four hours since he had left the voicemail.

Another moment was spent toying with his phone before he dialed Bruce’s number.

The phone rang three times before the call connected. “Dr. Banner speaking,” came Bruce’s voice, calm and professional, and just the sound of his voice made Clint smile involuntarily. He suddenly wondered why they hadn’t been calling each other since they traded numbers. There was some background noise of what could possibly be lab equipment, but Clint hadn’t the slightest idea how accurate that was.

“Hey Bruce,” Clint replied.

“Clint.” The change in Bruce’s voice was immediate. In place of the professionalism was this warm affection that had Clint smiling again. “Hang on, let me get out of the lab so we can talk.”

There was some muffled movement, followed by a muffled voice that didn’t sound like Bruce. Clint heard Bruce’s voice respond with what sounded like “No, Tony” before the overall background noise quieted down. 

The phone jostled again before Bruce’s voice came through clearly. “Sorry about that,” he said. “The lab can get really loud sometimes, especially when _Tony_ decides to use the university labs instead of his own.” 

That last part came out pretty forceful, and Clint couldn’t help but grin. “Was that Tony you were telling off just now?” he asked. He could just imagine Bruce telling off the other man through a window for trying to eavesdrop.

There was a sigh that almost sounded like a huff of laughter. “I think if I hadn’t escaped when I did, he would have stolen my phone and interrogated you,” he admitted, and Clint let out a bark of a laugh. “He _really_ wants to meet you. He was scandalized when I mentioned our coffee dates.”

To hear the other man describe their Tuesday and Thursday morning meetings as dates brought a smile to Clint’s face. “So I guess he’s gonna crash our date tomorrow?” he asked, glancing down at the table in front of him again and letting one of his fingers trace along one of the scratches on the surface.

There was a pause on the other line, and Clint immediately felt his smile drop from his face and fear settle in his core.

“About that,” Bruce said softly a moment later, sounding subdued. “The department head had a massive meeting with us this morning, and now we have a series of meetings happening every morning this week. That’s, uh… That’s why I called earlier. We can’t meet up this week for coffee.”

Clint remained quiet for a moment, trying to read more from what Bruce was saying. That fear in his stomach rose like bile into the base of his throat when he realized that he must have overstepped a boundary with that kiss on Saturday night after stargazing, and now Bruce didn’t want anything to do with him.

The sound of his name broke him from his thoughts. 

“Clint,” Bruce said, somehow both gentle and firm in one. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Saturday.” Clint panicked for a moment and wondered if he had accidentally voiced his thoughts absentmindedly, but he knew he had been silent. “Believe me when I say that I would _much_ rather be meeting up with you than sitting in these things. I just can’t miss them.”

Clint swallowed down the tightness in his throat and focused on that scratch on the table again. “Okay,” he replied at last. “But, y’know, you can tell me if I…y’know, _did_ something to…”

He trailed off when he heard a soft puff of laughter on the other line. “Same goes to you,” Bruce replied quietly, “but honestly, if I hadn’t had a sleeping child to care for, I, uh… I wanted to stay out a lot longer with you.”

The soft admission turned the lingering fear in Clint’s gut into the fluttery jitters he got whenever he hung out with Bruce. His finger stopped tracing the line on the table and he glanced up, a cautious smile toying at his lips. “Really?” he asked after a beat.

The soft response came another beat later. “Yeah.”

A short length of time went by in a comfortable silence spent reveling in the admission. Bruce’s words replayed through Clint’s head on a loop, a gentle reassurance that he hadn’t done something to push the other man away. 

“So,” Clint began a moment later, clearing his throat when the word came out a little roughly. “So, since we can’t meet up tomorrow or Thursday, do you want to do something on Friday?”

He could practically hear the smile in Bruce’s voice when he answered. “Friday will work,” he answered. 

“Do you think we’re ready to try dinner again?” Clint asked, quietly hopeful.

“I think so,” Bruce replied, and Clint immediately beamed.

“Awesome,” Clint said, still grinning. “I’ll set everything up. You just worry about getting a babysitter, and I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

“Alright,” Bruce said, and Clint could tell the man was smiling. “I need to get back to the lab. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” Clint replied. “I’ll text you with everything about Friday night. Good luck with Tony.”

There was a huff of laughter that made Clint’s smile brighten. “Thanks,” Bruce answered genuinely. “He’s getting rather insufferable.” 

“Yeah, some of my friends are getting pretty curious about you, too,” Clint admitted. “But they can wait, though, since I have to wait until Friday to see you. I’ll see you then?”

“I’ll see you then,” Bruce confirmed. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Clint replied reassuringly, waving his hand even though Bruce couldn’t see. “Things come up. Good luck with your meetings, and have a nice week.”

“You too,” the other man said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sounds good. Bye,” Clint replied.

“Bye.” The line went silent for a moment before the call disconnected. 

Clint stayed where he was sitting, going over the conversation again in silence. He could already feel himself beginning to get nervous for Friday. It was going to be their second dinner date, a chance to redeem that first dinner date that had been uncomfortable and awkward for both parties. They knew each other better now than they did then, especially with the developments from their date a few days ago. He wanted this to go right.

But what if it didn’t? His stomach immediately flipped with anxiety.

Before the nausea of anticipation and panic could take hold, however, he paused. In his head, he heard Bruce’s voice. _I wanted to stay out a lot longer with you._

A realization dawned. 

Bruce wanted to spend time with him. He wanted to spend time together. He had gone out of his way to reassure Clint that what had happened over the weekend—the date, holding hands, the almost-kiss—that they were all things that he wanted. 

Things were already going right. Once he got past his nerves and was himself, things went beautifully with Bruce. 

He had no reason to be nervous—or at least not _this_ nervous. He had already been on a dinner date, and now that they knew more about one another, this one wouldn’t be filled with awkward pauses and uncomfortable silences. 

A hesitant, but hopeful smile touched Clint’s features at the thought. Things were progressing between the two of them slowly, sure, but they were _progressing._

Clint felt himself relax a little and he drew a deep breath, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders leak out with the exhale. He powered on his phone again and went to the string of text messages between the two of them.

**_Me: fyi, i’ll be texting you all week since i dont get to see you until friday._ **

Clint got up to finally retrieve his lunch from the microwave, and by the time he sat back down, there was a message waiting from Bruce. He smiled when he read it.

**_Bruce Banner: I look forward to it._ **

==

Without the coffee dates to look forward to, the week dragged on. True to his word, Clint texted Bruce in the interim. At first, he was worried that he was pestering Bruce, but when he left the other man alone for a few hours, he found a few messages waiting for him on his phone. 

They started sending each other pictures as well, with Bruce being the one to initiate it. The first came on Tuesday morning, when Clint had convinced Natasha to get coffee with him before their shifts at the gym. His apartment had started to feel too closeted in the wake of his cancelled plans with Bruce.

It was while they were just sitting down at a small booth inside a shop close to the gym that Clint’s phone beeped. He pulled it out and grinned when he saw the message was from Bruce. The grin widened when he saw it was actually a photograph of a rather bland looking room with some rather bored looking people.

His suspicions were confirmed when he read the message accompanying the image: **Hope you’re having more fun than me right now.**

Across the table, Natasha subtly rolled her eyes and took a small sip of her coffee. “Is that your boyfriend texting you?” she asked smoothly. 

Clint’s eyes rose from his cell phone and he looked at her. 

When their eyes met, Natasha quirked an eyebrow. “Are you or are you not treating me to coffee today because your twice-weekly coffee dates were cancelled this week?” she asked, point-blank. She interrupted his quick protests with the wave of her hand. “I’m not complaining, Clint,” she said with an innocent little shrug. “I just found your urgency to get out of your apartment a little strange.” As she lifted her cup back to her mouth, an amused and almost mischievous smile touched her lips. “Is Lucky not a good stand-in date?”

“I can’t tell who you’re insulting: Bruce, yourself, _myself,_ or my dog,” Clint remarked grudgingly, but he knew he was smiling. When her only response was a mild tick of her eyebrow, he sighed. “Yes, we normally have coffee dates right now. No, you are _not_ a stand-in date. I just…didn’t feel like sitting in my apartment this morning.”

He didn’t add the _‘y’know, alone’_ to the end of that statement, but Natasha seemed to have heard it regardless. Her expression softened and she set her cup of coffee back down. 

When she remained quiet for a handful of moments, Clint returned his attention to his phone. An idea popped into his head and he smirked. 

He held up his phone and opened up the camera application. “Smile,” he said in a sing-song voice. Through the screen, he watched her roll her eyes again, but she begrudgingly lifted her cup in a silent toast to the camera.

Clint snapped the picture and grinned his thanks before he went about replying to Bruce.

**_Me: getting coffee with tasha, but its not the same. the company isnt nearly as cute as you._ **

He hesitated for only a moment over that last sentence, but he sent the message before he could second-guess himself further.

“I hope you didn’t say anything unflattering about me,” Natasha said at the sight of his smirk.

“Only that you don’t make for _nearly_ as cute company as Bruce does,” Clint replied with faux reassurance. He grinned and neatly dodged the balled up napkin she threw at his head.

They got to talking about other things happening in their lives, teasing each other and bickering playfully with one another like they had been doing over the course of their years of friendship. 

He had just gotten Natasha to laugh when his phone buzzed on the tabletop. He picked it up and powered on, and—

He immediately burst into laughter. 

“Uh oh,” Natasha murmured, which only made him laugh harder.

There were tears of mirth in his eyes that he had to wipe away before he could look at the message again. It was actually a photo with only two words of text below it. The image was of a disgruntled looking man sitting on the other side of a table, looking to his right and seemingly unaware that Bruce was snapping a picture of him. There was a deep frown on the man’s scowling face and a _horrible_ toupee atop his head. 

The words accompanying the photo made him giggle helplessly as he read them again: **_Same here._**

“Oh,” Clint said between the last few chuckles that escaped from him, “oh, that poor man.” He handed Natasha his phone for her to read the conversation, and when she snorted a laugh, he dissolved into giggles again.

“I’d say I’m a step up from that,” Natasha commented tranquilly as she leaned forward to hand the phone back.

“At least,” Clint agreed, laughing again when Natasha threw his phone at him.

==

At long last, Friday finally arrived. Clint had solidified their evening plans by Wednesday afternoon, in which he called the restaurant of choice to make reservations. It wasn’t exactly a super-fancy restaurant, but it was still a pretty popular one. It was another restaurant that Clint had been to a few times with his friends, and he knew there were local bands that performed on Friday nights. It seemed like a fun way to round out the week and to enjoy themselves.

He was a lot less nervous this time around, which was a welcome relief. They had been texting each other all week, just little greetings throughout the day. Messages with pictures were a special treat that never failed to make Clint smile. 

Despite not being able to meet up during the week, they kept up with each other. The thoughtfulness made something in Clint grow warm each time he read a message from Bruce. He had been afraid that the distance would give Bruce a chance to rethink everything that had been happening between them, but to his surprise (and delighted relief), that didn’t seem to be the case at all. 

So when he received a phone call on Friday afternoon, in between his appointments, he grew nervous. He stepped into the privacy of the locker room and stared at Bruce’s name on the screen for a moment longer before he finally gathered the courage to answer the call.

“Hello?” he said, hoping to keep his caution out of his voice.

“Hey Clint,” Bruce’s voice came through, and there was no mistaking the caution in his voice. 

Clint shifted his weight uncomfortably, rocking from one foot to the other. “Everything alright?” he asked reluctantly. “You sound a little…”

“I, uh…” Bruce hesitated for a moment, and Clint immediately knew that they weren’t going to be meeting up that night after all. “I just got a text from my babysitter. She had a family emergency and let me know she couldn’t babysit tonight.”

“Is she alright?” Clint asked despite himself.

“Yeah, I think so,” Bruce replied. “Her sister-in-law went into labor early this morning, so she needed to get to the hospital. I’d ask Tony and Pepper to babysit, but they’re already heading out of town for the weekend, and…” There was a sigh. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Clint said immediately, even though there was some treacherous part of him that was hurt. This was beyond both of their control, so he shouldn’t be feeling like that, but the sting of rejection was stronger than his sense of logic. 

Before he could say anything more, though, he heard Bruce draw what sounded like a nervous breath. Clint immediately froze, waiting.

“We can’t go out,” Bruce said, like it hadn’t been obvious, “but, um…well, would you like to come over for dinner instead?”

Surprise shot through Clint. “Come over?” he parroted, making sure he had heard that correctly. 

“If you still want to meet up,” Bruce elaborated, more hesitantly than before.

“Yeah,” Clint immediately responded, wanting nothing more than to reassure the other man. “Yeah, I definitely still want to meet up, if you’re up for it.”

“I am,” Bruce replied, and the relief in his voice was palpable. Just the sound of it made that part inside of Clint’s chest grow warm again. “I would like to see you.”

Clint’s stomach instantly started doing giddy somersaults. A brilliant smile crept to his face and he had to keep himself from doing a little dance in place. “I want to see you, too,” he admitted in a softer tone.

There was a pause on the other line, and Clint imagined Bruce reacting identically to him at the admission. “How does 6:30 tonight sound?” Bruce asked, and there was no mistaking the smile in his voice. “I’ll text you my address.”

“6:30 sounds perfect,” Clint said, still smiling to himself. “Want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” Bruce answered, “and don’t worry about getting all dressed up. It’ll just be me and Chrissie.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“I’ll see you tonight,” Bruce confirmed, and Clint couldn’t help but smile again. “I’ll text you the address in a minute.”

They exchanged good-byes, and sure enough, Bruce’s text message came a handful of seconds later. If he was thinking of the right area, it would take maybe twenty minutes to get there by car.

Clint texted back a quick **_see you tonight_** and returned to the gym with an excited smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to be changing the posting schedule on this fic a little bit starting with the next chapter. As some of you know, I recently got a new job which keeps me super busy, so my writing has slowed down a little. Fear not, I don't plan to abandon this fic or any of the others I'm working on. I just have less time to devote to writing nowadays.
> 
> So, as of right now, I'm planning on changing the posting schedule on this fic to every other Sunday. 
> 
> Thank you for understanding, and thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

It was 6:24 when Clint pulled up to the curb in front of a house and put his car in park. The house was part of a row of other cozy houses: not large, but comfortable. It was only early October—the first Friday of the new month—but one or two of the houses on the street already had the beginnings of Halloween decorations put up.

Clint checked the address on his phone one last time before he turned off his car. He grabbed the plastic container of dessert pastries he had bought on the way home from work. While he might not have been raised under the best circumstances, he knew better than to show up empty-handed to someone’s house, and he had a feeling that a bottle of wine would have sent the wrong message. 

He stepped out of his vehicle and into the mildly cool October evening. The sun was getting ready to start setting, but it wasn’t dark enough yet to inhibit his ability to look around. As he walked up the driveway and then the walkway to the porch, he let his eyes scan the area. The yard was well kept, and beneath the windows were little flower beds. There was a rubber ball lying in the grass, but aside from that, the yard was free from other outdoor toys.

Clint stepped onto the porch and straightened his clothes—nothing too fancy, but not sloppy either—before ringing the doorbell.

After taking a step back, he started fiddling with the plastic container in his hands as he waited. When he heard approaching footsteps, he perked up.

The door opened and Bruce appeared. A smile immediately touched the man’s features. “Hey,” he said.

Clint meant to reply, but instead found himself staring because _no one_ should look that good with scruff. It looked like the professor hadn’t shaved in a few days and the growth on his jaw was a mix of pepper and salt, all surrounding his lips.

With the sudden realization that he was staring intently at Bruce’s mouth, Clint quickly met Bruce’s eyes. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as the heat in his cheeks suggested.

Something purple caught his eye and he glanced toward Bruce’s hair. He fought the grin that immediately threatened to appear when he saw a tiny, purple tiara nestled in his curls.

“I said you didn’t need to bring anything,” Bruce said mildly, drawing Clint’s eyes away from the hairpiece.

Clint grinned. “You also said I didn’t need to dress up,” he pointed out, gazing to the tiara again.

Bruce laughed softly and reached up to toy with the plastic in his hair. “Chrissie insisted I dress up,” he explained.

“It suits you,” Clint complimented, still smiling. “Purple looks good on you.”

“Never mind that it’s your favorite color,” Bruce teased as he finally opened the door more fully to let Clint in. “And don’t worry; she has one for you, too.”

“Even better,” Clint replied with a grin as he stepped inside. He paused next to Bruce, his grin softening into a smile. “It’s really good to see you again,” he said.

Bruce paused in closing the door to glance over at him, and a warm smile touched his lips. “I’m glad you could make it,” he replied quietly. “Can I get your jacket?”

“Oh, right,” Clint murmured. He handed Bruce the container of pastries before he slipped off his jacket. It went on one of the hooks that lined the wall next to the door.

When he turned back around, he smiled brightly at Bruce. “Thanks for having me over,” he said. 

“Thanks for being flexible,” Bruce rejoined, handing back the pastries.

Clint took the container, and before Bruce could return his hands to his sides, Clint caught his fingers. They both paused, and the next moment seemed to last forever as neither of them moved, frozen to the spot.

Then a pleasant smile crossed Bruce’s face, this stunning little thing that blossomed into a complete smile filled with warmth, and he carefully slotted their hands together. Clint took a moment to marvel at how easy the gesture was, like a week hadn’t passed since they had last seen each other, let alone touched one another.

The ease of the motion made Clint smile and gave him the courage to lean in and press a quick kiss against the enticing scruff on Bruce’s left cheek. When he leaned back, he saw the gorgeous smile on Bruce’s lips and Clint gave the hand in his a light squeeze. Warmth filled his chest and his stomach did little flips within him, and he felt lighter than air.

Together, hand-in-hand, Bruce led the way through the living room and around the corner into the kitchen. On the other side of the large room was the dining room, split by a counter protruding from the wall. On the stove are a number of pots, and there was a lovely aroma in the air that he hadn’t noticed earlier in his focus on Bruce.

“You don’t have any food allergies, do you?” Bruce asked as they stepped more fully into the kitchen.

“None that I’ve discovered yet,” Clint replied, drawing another deep breath of the heavenly smell of the kitchen. “Smells amazing, whatever it is.”

“It’s not quite ready yet,” Bruce admitted as their hands parted. “Feel free to look around. I can give you the grand tour later.”

As Bruce went over to the stove, Clint set the container of desserts down on the counter and took another look around the kitchen. His eyes were drawn to the refrigerator, where he saw a small collection of crayon doodles. “Where’s Chrissie?”

Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but he paused when they both heard the sound of tiny pattering feet in fast approach. A moment later, the little girl rocketed into the kitchen, sliding a little as her socked feet hit the non-carpeted kitchen floor. Her smile immediately brightened when she saw the newcomer. “Clint!” she exclaimed delightedly.

“Chrissie!” Clint exclaimed back, grinning widely. “Did you have a good day at preschool?”

“Yeah,” the child said as she trotted over to Bruce. She wrapped her arms around her father’s legs and looked up at him. “Daddy, is dinner almost ready?” she asked.

“Almost,” Bruce replied, lifting the lid on the smallest of the pots on the stovetop and checking the contents. As he gave it a stir, he smiled down at Chrissie. “Would you like to show Clint around the house?”

Any thoughts of dinner were immediately pushed aside. Chrissie’s whole face lit up and, quick as a flash, she had Clint’s hands and was actually bouncing in her excitement. She tugged lightly, and Clint obligingly allowed himself to be led away. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Bruce’s sweet little smile before he was dragged around the corner.

Chrissie pulled him back to the front room. “This is the TV room,” she explained, doing a fair impersonation of a tour guide. She pointed at a bookshelf next to a comfortable looking couch. “That’s where we keep the movies I can watch,” she said, pointing to the bottom portion of the shelving unit, “and up there is where Daddy keeps movies he can watch and some of his books.” She paused to look up at Clint. “Daddy has _lots_ of books.”

“Does he?” Clint asked.

The little girl nodded knowingly. “Daddy has lots of books in his office, and then there are some in his room. We even have some boxes downstairs with books.”

“Wow,” Clint said, sounding impressed. “Your dad sounds pretty smart.”

The child beamed. “Daddy is the smartest person in the whole world,” she said proudly. “Sammie says her daddy is smarter, but I don’t think so.”

“Well, your dad is definitely the smartest person I know,” Clint reassured, and Chrissie grinned again.

From the living room, they ventured further into the house. The home didn’t have an upper level, but with the aforementioned downstairs, it seemed like a nicely sized home for a man and his daughter. 

Chrissie pulled him down a hall that went to the left before the dining room and kitchen. The walls of the narrow walkway were lined with photographs in frames. With the little girl hurrying him along, though, he didn’t catch more than a brief glimpse of them as they passed by.

“And that’s the potty,” Chrissie was saying, pointing to each of the doors along the corridor, “and that’s a closet, and that’s Daddy’s room, and that’s the guest bedroom where Aunt Jenny sleeps when she comes over, and this is my room!” Chrissie pushed open the last door—the one decorated with flowers—and before Clint could protest, she pulled him inside.

The room was perfectly adorable. Two of the walls were white and the other two a light green—obviously a good color for a nursery. The last few rays of sunlight were coming into the room from one of the two windows on adjacent walls. One window had a view of the front yard, and the other had a view of a neighbor’s house. The floor was clean aside from a small pile of toys and stuffed animals next to the little bed. On a table in the corner was a hamster cage, and he remembered back to that first walk in the park that she had called it Peaches.

As Chrissie let go of his hand and skipped into her room, Clint lingered in the doorway. “Nice room,” he said, looking around. “I like your purple blankets.”

“Purple’s my favorite,” Chrissie said as she opened up her toy box and started to dig around. She made a sound of victory and pulled something out. 

Clint stifled his snort of laughter when he saw it was another tiara—blue this time. Bruce hadn’t been kidding.

“Here,” Chrissie said, hurrying back to the doorway. She held up the tiara. “You should dress up.”

“Should I, now?” Clint asked with a grin as he took the tiny blue hair piece. He studied it for a moment before slipping it on.

“Yes,” the little girl replied with such conviction and confidence it made Clint’s smile widen. “When Sammie’s mommy and daddy drop Sammie off here so they can eat dinner together, they _always_ dress up.”

Clint’s mouth went dry. Had Bruce already told her they were dating?

He was brought out of his thoughts as she went on. “And they always look _so_ pretty.” She smiled brightly up at Clint. “Now you’re pretty, too! I helped Daddy earlier, so now we’re ready for dinner together!”

Clint shook off his stupor and looked at her again. “But what about you?” he asked with a growing smile. “Where’s your tiara?”

“I don’t need one,” Chrissie answered. “I’m _always_ pretty.”

Clint immediately burst into laughter.

Armed now with his own tiara, Chrissie led him around the rest of the house. The way to the basement was through the kitchen. As they rounded the corner, Clint saw that the dining table had been set neatly for three spots. Bruce was still at the stove, carefully stirring something in a different pot. He smiled when he saw the tiara in Clint’s hair, and Clint grinned and lightly bumped shoulders with him as they passed by.

Down the stairs the two of them went. The basement was a good-sized space. The main area the stairs led to was a den, with another television set and more seating arrangements. Chrissie showed him Bruce’s office, the room to the left of the stairs, and they peeked out of the sliding doors into the back yard, which appeared to have some level ground, then a mild hill, and then a few more feet of level ground before the fence. She then showed him the board game room, where she pointed out some of her favorite games she and Bruce played together on rainy days.

As they returned to the den, the basement door opened. “Chrissie? Clint?” Bruce’s voice came from the top of the stairs. “Come on back up. Dinner’s ready.”

“Yay!” Chrissie cheered. She grabbed Clint’s hand again and they raced up the stairs, the little girl giggling happily when she beat Clint to the top.

After washing their hands, Chrissie led Clint over to the table and picked which spot he should sit at. There was a small basket with a clean dishtowel thrown over it, likely holding rolls. On a potholder was a neat ceramic dish. The glass lid was covered in condensation from the steam coming off of the food within, and it was impossible to see what was inside. Whatever it was, though, it smelled heavenly.

“Anything I can help with?” Clint asked Bruce as Chrissie climbed up onto her seat. 

“That’s okay,” Bruce replied as he opened up the refrigerator. “What would you like to drink? We’ve got fruit juices, water, ginger ale…”

“Water’s fine, thanks,” Clint answered. 

Chrissie twisted around in her chair and looked back at her father. “Daddy, can I have apple juice, please?” 

“Yes, you may,” Bruce replied with an endearing smile.

A moment later, they all had drinks and were all seated at the table. Their plates were passed over and Bruce pulled the lid off of the ceramic serving dish. Inside was a pasta dish with creamy alfredo sauce with pieces of chicken and broccoli interspersed throughout. 

As Bruce started scooping some of the food onto one of the plates, he nodded toward the basket. “There’s garlic bread in there, so help yourself.” He handed the plate over to Clint and went about scooping a smaller portion onto the next plate.

“Thank you,” Clint said, somewhat bewildered. He hadn’t expected Bruce to make a full-out meal tonight. 

While Bruce went about cutting the food on the plate into smaller bites for the child, Chrissie looked back and forth between the two adults and started smiling.

“What?” Clint asked with a growing smile.

Chrissie giggled and promptly clapped her hands over her mouth, but her eyes were still bright with mirth. “You both look so _pretty,”_ she said before she started giggling again. “Daddy, did you see how pretty Clint is?”

“I did,” Bruce answered, and when he glanced over at the man in question, there was such an expression of warm affection on his face that Clint felt something in his chest melt. He pointedly didn’t look at the tiara and instead met Clint’s eyes and smiled. “Very pretty,” Bruce agreed, and Clint’s stomach immediately started doing somersaults again.

Once everyone had a plate of food in front of them and the basket of garlic bread had been passed around, they dug in. 

Clint had to bite back a groan of delight after he took his first bite of the meal. The sauce was wonderful and played beautifully with the flavors of chicken and the little pieces of broccoli florets mixed in. “Great day,” he sighed blissfully once he had swallowed the bite. His eyes went to Bruce, who was watching him with a little smile on his face. “You _made_ all of this? Even the sauce?”

Bruce glanced back down at his own dish, but it didn’t hide the pleased smile or the faint blush that touched his cheeks. “It’s a family recipe,” he replied.

“It’s amazing,” Clint said with wonder as he scooped up another forkful.

“Daddy’s the best cook,” Chrissie said from her seat in between sips of apple juice.

Clint made a thoughtful noise and gazed back at Bruce. “Best cook _and_ smartest man in the world,” he teased, and Bruce’s blush darkened slightly. He smiled over at Chrissie and winked. “Sounds like you lucked out on a great dad.”

Chrissie beamed happily.

The meal progressed in a comfortable fashion. There was never a lull in the conversation. Between the week-long gap since they had last seen each other, they never ran out of things to talk about. Bruce briefly described some of what had happened with the meetings, along with little anecdotes about his friend Tony’s behavior that made both Chrissie and Clint laugh. Clint went on about a few other milestones some of his students in his archery classes hit during the week. Chrissie had little stories about her friends from preschool and daycare to contribute.

Clint helped Bruce clear away the meal from the table. The dirty dishes were set in the sink to be cleaned later that night. They broke out the dessert Clint had brought with him, which was a hit. 

By the time they were finished, it was just after eight o’clock in the evening. Chrissie’s energy was starting to flag a little, but she seemed determined to stay with them. 

As she was rubbing at her eyes, Clint saw Bruce watching her. His eyes followed him as Bruce got up and began to clear away the rest of the table. “Clint, can I get you anything else? Coffee? Tea?”

“Um…” Clint began eloquently, looking away from the drowsy child to Bruce. “Coffee sounds good, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Bruce said with a smile. 

As he approached the table to pick up Chrissie’s empty glass of milk, he leaned in and pressed a kiss against her temple, which made her smile drowsily. “How about you go pick out which book we read tonight,” he suggested softly to her in low, loving tones.

“’kay,” the little girl murmured, and she grinned again when he kissed her a second time. 

Clint felt something in his chest warm up at the loving scene. He knew he had a tiny affectionate smile on his face as he watched Bruce help Chrissie down from her chair.

They both watched the little girl leave the room and turn the corner to head to her room. For a few lingering moments, they remained just where they were, frozen in the homey atmosphere.

“You’re really good with her,” Bruce said softly after another few moments of peace. When Clint finally looked away from the opening of the hallway and over at the other man, he found Bruce quietly looking at him with this indecipherable expression on his face. It was unreadable, but unspeakably warm, and Clint felt his breath catch.

When Clint was able to find his ability to speak again, he gave Bruce an affectionate smile. “She’s a sweetheart,” he replied in a low voice. “She really loves you.”

The comment made Bruce smile. Wordlessly, Bruce moved into the kitchen and went about getting the coffee machine ready. He also put a kettle on the stovetop, setting the flame low.

Chrissie came back into the room a minute later, in her pajamas and with a dab of toothpaste on her chin. 

“Did you pick a book?” Bruce asked, though it was an unnecessary question since she had her arms wrapped around a small tome.

The little girl smiled and held up the book. Clint bit his lip to keep from smiling too widely when he saw it was _The Last Unicorn._

Bruce didn’t bother to hide his smile. “But we just finished it yesterday,” he said kindly.

“But I _really_ liked it,” Chrissie said, pulling the book back to her chest. Her eyes sparkled as she stared pleadingly up at her dad. “Please?” 

With a soft smile, Bruce knelt down. “Of course,” he replied, reaching out to wipe the bit of toothpaste foam from her face. Before he pulled away, he kissed her forehead. “Go on and say goodnight to Clint, and then we’ll read.”

Chrissie grinned and wordlessly handed the book to her father. 

As she turned and rushed over to where he was sitting, Clint slid out of his chair and knelt down. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a hug, and Clint knew a sappy smile had crossed his face as he returned the embrace.

“Goodnight, Clint,” she said happily against his neck. 

“Goodnight, Chrissie,” Clint replied softly. As they broke apart, he met her deep blue eyes. “I’ll see you in gymnastics tomorrow.”

The little girl beamed at the reminder of the Saturday morning class. She reached up and carefully pulled the tiara from his hair—he had honestly forgotten it was still up there. “See you tomorrow,” she said with a bright smile. 

As Clint stood back up, he met Bruce’s eyes. Bruce had this endearing little smile on his face. 

“Go ahead and help yourself to the coffee,” Bruce said softly. “I’ll be a few minutes, so feel free to look around.”

And with that, Clint was left in Bruce’s dining room while he put his kid to bed. For a moment, he was almost overwhelmed by the domesticity of it all, but the feeling of fright was almost completely overshadowed by the feeling of comfort. 

It was a remarkable feeling, and it kept him frozen in place until the coffee maker suddenly went silent. He blinked from his thoughts and glanced into the kitchen, where he saw that Bruce already had a mug, creamer, and sugar ready on the countertop. He felt a smile tug at his lips.

Armed with a cup of coffee, Clint wandered into the living room. He approached the bookcase that Chrissie had pointed to earlier in her tour of the house and took a closer look at some of the titles. On the lower shelves were the Disney movies and other kid’s movies. Higher up were a few movies, but those shelves mostly held books. 

There was a painting over the sofa across from the large window looking out onto the front yard. It was something he could imagine Bob Ross painting: homey cottage out in the woods in the fall. The leaves on the trees were a mix of reds and oranges and yellows, and the whole scene was cast in the shades of sunset. It was a nice picture.

It was that thought that made him remember the line of photographs in the hallway that he hadn’t had a chance to look at more closely. 

Taking a sip of his coffee, he ventured to the hall. Chrissie’s door was standing ajar with light spilling out into the corridor, and from within he could hear Bruce’s voice speaking in low, soothing tones. 

As Clint paused at the first framed photo on the wall, he listened to Bruce’s voice.

_“…can’t be, she thought. She had never minded being alone, never seeing another unicorn, because she had always known…”_

Clint smiled to himself at the sound of Bruce’s gentle voice and focused on the picture. He immediately felt himself smile and something in his chest melt a little. It was a baby picture, a professionally-done one with the standard stark backdrop, but the baby girl sitting in the middle had the happiest smile on her chubby little face. Her eyes—still the deep blue Chrissie had presently—were trained off camera, where Bruce had likely been encouraging her to smile radiantly. 

It was _adorable._

The next picture was of both Chrissie and Bruce at what was likely her first birthday party. There was a cupcake sitting on a little saucer in front of the little girl. Her brilliant blue eyes were wide with wonder as she stared at the flame on the single candle in the cupcake. Both of her little hands were wrapped around Bruce’s fingers, who was leaning down so his head was right next to hers and they were nearly eye-level. While Chrissie was staring at the candle, Bruce only had eyes for her. It was a wonderfully timed photograph, to see the loving devotion on his face and the innocent curiosity on hers. 

As he was staring at the picture, he heard Bruce’s voice grow softer and softer until falling silent altogether. A few moments later, the hallway brightened briefly as the door to the girl’s room was opened. 

Bruce stepped out and carefully pulled the door nearly shut, turning out the overhead light before leaving the door cracked. There was a soft blue light coming from within the room that could only be coming from a nightlight.

As he turned, Bruce noticed Clint standing in the hall and jumped a little. 

Clint smiled disarmingly and raised his mug of coffee up. “Fast asleep?” he asked softly.

Bruce returned the smile and stepped closer to the archer. “Yes,” he replied. “I think the excitement of having a guest to dinner wore her out.” He paused for a moment. “Why are you in the hall?”

“I noticed the pictures earlier when Chrissie showed me around,” Clint explained, looking back at the photograph. “I wanted to see them.”

He felt Bruce step a little closer to look at the picture with him, and it took all of his restraint not to lean into the solid warmth next to him. “First birthday,” Bruce said with a fond, nostalgic lilt to his voice. “Pepper took this picture, I think.” 

“It’s a great picture,” Clint said, glancing over at Bruce with another smile.

“I think so, too,” Bruce agreed, his eyes on the photograph. 

They looked at the framed picture for a moment longer before Clint felt Bruce’s hand easily slip into his. A flutter made itself known in his chest, and he felt another smile come to his face.

Together, they wandered back down the hall and into the kitchen. Their hands disconnected just long enough for Bruce to fix himself a cup of chamomile tea, and then Bruce led them downstairs into the den.

They remained quiet as they both sat down on the sofa. Their mugs went onto individual coasters on the coffee table in front of the couch and they sat with one another without any other distraction, just settled together. 

It should have made Clint nervous, he realized, sitting with their hands still together in a calm hush. He didn’t feel the need to rush in and break the quiet, like he had that first dinner they had shared together. It was a little overwhelming to think that only three short weeks had passed since that first date, considering where they were now. It was astonishing.

Clint was brought out of his thoughts when Bruce glanced down at their interlaced fingers. “I know this wasn’t quite what you had in mind when we agreed to meet up tonight,” the man began, and the words could have sounded apologetic if they hadn’t been so fond, “but I’m glad that you decided to come over.”

“Are you kidding?” Clint asked with a reassuring smile. “This has been great. It might not have been what I had planned, but I’ve definitely enjoyed myself. Chrissie was a real doll and a sweetheart.”

A smile appeared on Bruce’s face, and while it was still tinged with affection, it held a certain hesitancy. “I’m sure you didn’t want to spend our evening together with a four year old,” he hedged.

“Things happen,” Clint replied, meeting Bruce’s eyes when the man glanced over at him. “I knew what I was getting into, and I don’t regret it for a moment. You’re a dad first; I don’t think you realize how much I respect that.” He gave Bruce another reassuring smile and gave the hand in his a light squeeze. “These things are going to happen, which is fine. If that means we have to reschedule dates, so be it. Or if it means I get to come over and have a home cooked meal, you won’t hear a word out of me.”

As Bruce huffed a soft laugh at that, Clint grinned. “Besides,” he went on a moment later, “Chrissie really is a great kid. She’s smart, funny, and she helped us both be pretty tonight—not that you needed help with that,” he added, reaching up with his free hand to straighten one of the errant curls atop Bruce’s head where the tiara had been earlier.

Another gorgeous smile touched Bruce’s mouth. “You definitely don’t need help in that area, either,” he replied softly.

Clint’s eyes returned to Bruce’s face and he found the man staring at him with an expression so open and tender that Clint felt something in his chest hitch. His stomach immediately began to do an impressive gymnastics routine in his gut and he was almost certain that Bruce would be able to hear how hard his heart was suddenly beating.

Their eyes remained focused on each other, and Clint carefully— _carefully_ —let the hand just brushing Bruce’s hair travel lightly through his greying curls, moving slowly lower until his fingertips drifted across the man’s temple. His hand continued its precarious journey until his palm was just barely caressing one stubble-covered cheek. His thumb just barely brushed Bruce’s cheekbone while his fingers were met with some of the curls against Bruce’s neck.

As the touch went from faint to questioning, Clint saw Bruce’s eyes just barely lower. A rush went through his body at the thought of Bruce looking at his lips. A light, barely-there stroke of Clint’s thumb brought Bruce’s eyes back up to his. Clint would have gotten lost in their gorgeous depth, but then he felt a light, questioning hand come to a hesitant rest against his knee.

He resisted looking down to the hand in question, which he was instantly thankful for, as it allowed him to catch Bruce’s eyes twitch momentarily back to Clint’s lips.

Bruce’s eyes met his again, and Clint drew a quiet breath.

He leaned in.

The last thing he saw before his eyes slipped shut was Bruce’s eyes quickly dart back to Clint’s mouth before fluttering closed. Clint just barely tipped his head to the side, and when he felt a slightly shaky breath of hot air against his lips, he paused. 

There was a moment of breathtaking stillness between them. Clint kept his eyes closed, suddenly terrified to open them. He remained frozen, and another soft breath hit his lips.

And then there was a soft, barely there pressure against him. The lips against his were hesitant, soft, which counteracted with the slight burn of scruff against Clint’s clean-shaven jaw. 

The terror in his chest melted away, and as they moved apart a fraction of an inch, a tiny sigh escaped from him. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, couldn’t bring himself to allow another sensory input to overwhelm him. When he leaned in again, he was met halfway.

One of them sighed as their lips connected again, and Clint had no idea who it came from, nor did he really care. His mind went blissfully blank and all he could do was let the different sensations wash over him. The slide of their lips over one another lost its hesitancy and caution, letting them relax into the kiss with all of the ease of their hands coming together. There was the prickling of Bruce’s beard against his chin and hand as he cupped Bruce’s jaw. There was the feeling of Bruce’s hand abandoning its place on his knee, only to settle a moment later on his side. 

They both drew back in unison, just far enough to allow them to meet each other’s eyes. When Clint finally willed his eyes back open, he found Bruce’s eyes already open and staring at him. There was a sort of glaze over his chocolatey orbs, and Clint was certain that that same glaze was over his own. 

Their eyes met, and breathless smiles crossed their faces before they moved in again.

As exciting as it was to finally be kissing, they kept their pace leisurely to simply enjoy this new development. Clint would happily spend eternity like this, caught up in kissing Bruce and feeling those full lips against his, feeling his insides doing flips of delight. He wanted to memorize all of it, from the soft, sweet little sighs of air to the feeling of Bruce’s gorgeous curls against his fingers. To the feeling of their hands resting together between them, to Bruce’s other hand traveling up his side to rest on his chest.

They broke apart again when the need for air became apparent, and their foreheads came together as they quietly caught their breath. Clint kept his fingers buried in Bruce’s hair, carefully cradling his head, and Bruce’s hand remained planted on his chest, no doubt feeling the quick rises and falls as their breathing began to return to normal. 

Clint knew they were both grinning, and when he finally opened his eyes, he felt his breath catch. The smile on Bruce’s face was _stunning,_ so open and caring and _warm,_ but what Clint saw in it the most was how purely _genuine_ it was. Clint suddenly wanted to push himself back into Bruce’s space to kiss those smiling lips, to taste the affection and warmth there.

He was about to do just that when Bruce’s eyes slipped open. The lines around his eyes were crinkled with the power of his smile, and his eyes were fairly sparkling, and Clint felt his breath catch again.

They watched each other, still just breathing and unable to stop smiling.

Finally, Bruce drew a breath. “You,” he began in a low murmur, “are something else entirely.”

Clint felt his grin widen and he leaned forward just enough for their noses to brush together. 

He was still smiling when Bruce closed the gap between them and kissed him again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.
> 
> Make sure you read the ending notes for an important announcement.

“So, um…” Clint trailed off as Bruce closed the back door. “Do you have any plans tomorrow morning?”

It was the following morning, after gymnastics class. It was a cool October day, a sure sign that summer was gone and fall was finally taking over. They were in the parking lot outside of the gym and beside Bruce’s car, where he had just buckled Chrissie in. It was the first chance Clint had had to talk to Bruce since last night.

Just the thought of last night brought butterflies to Clint’s stomach. He had ended up leaving Bruce’s home after ten o’clock, and the two of them had lingered on the doorstep for a few extra minutes before Clint had to force himself to take the steps necessary to take him to his car. The sight of Bruce standing there, lips red and wet from the goodnight kisses they had indulged in, was almost enough to reel Clint back in, but Bruce had simply smiled and reminded him that they both needed to be up early for gymnastics the following morning.

Clint hadn’t had a chance to talk with Bruce earlier before the class started, which was normal. Clint had tried not to stare at the man as he and Chrissie had walked in. Bruce had shaved, the scruff now gone from his clean-shaven jawline. He was almost sad to see it go, but he was so much more familiar with this version of Bruce.

They had exchanged little waves across the gym, and when a warm smile touched Bruce’s lips, Clint remembered the feeling of those lips against his. Butterflies immediately filled his stomach, but it was an intoxicating feeling.

It was also a fairly distracting feeling. 

It was after Darcy had passed by him, making a gagging sound only he could hear, that he realized his colleagues had noticed. He was certain his face had turned the same color as Natasha’s red tank-top, but Darcy only had a teasing smile on her face. Natasha had only smiled at him before they dove into the lesson of the day.

“Tomorrow morning?” Bruce repeated, bringing Clint out of his thoughts and back to the parking lot. When Clint focused on the man, he found Bruce looking at him with his unspeakably warm eyes. “Aside from grading some lab reports, I’m pretty much free tomorrow.”

Clint felt himself smile. “Think you can find a babysitter for a little bit?”

“I’m sure Tony and Pepper wouldn’t mind,” Bruce replied, “and Chrissie loves spending time with their daughter. Why? What’s up?”

“Are you still interested in getting an archery demonstration?” Clint asked, and he could hear the hopefulness in his voice. “And maybe meeting one of my friends?”

The smile that suddenly overtook Bruce’s features was breathtaking, and Clint felt that somersault-y feeling in his core again. “I will ask if they can watch Chrissie tomorrow,” Bruce immediately replied. 

There were still other families in the parking lot, so Clint refrained from leaning in and planting a kiss against Bruce’s lips. They both stood there for a lingering moment, watching each other and smiling quietly.

Finally, Clint reached out and caught one of Bruce’s hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.

“I certainly hope so,” Bruce replied, giving Clint’s hand a gentle squeeze before they parted ways.

Clint stood back and watched the car back out of the parking spot. He waved at both of them, grinning when he saw Chrissie’s wildly waving arms in the back seat, before he whipped out his phone and opened a text to Kate.

==

“Kate, no,” Clint groaned at his phone.

He was out in the parking lot a little before ten o’clock on Sunday morning. After Bruce had texted him the day before to say that he would be able to come out to the range on this morning, Clint had been texting furiously with Kate to have her come at their usual 11:00, so he could have some time alone with Bruce first.

He was leaned against his car now, right outside of the range, frowning down at the latest text message from his friend.

**_Katie-Kate: Who’s to say you guys will still be there at 11? I want to meet your man._ **

**_Me: kate i swear to god i will never speak to you again_ **

Hardly a moment later, her response came through.

**_Katie-Kate: That’s not encouraging at all. I’m coming now._ **

Clint groaned again.

He had just promised her a night out—drinks on him—when he saw Bruce’s car pull into the parking lot. A grin overtook Clint’s face and he shoved his phone away even as it vibrated with Kate’s answer.

“Good morning,” he said as Bruce got out of his car. The parking lot was pretty much empty, except for their cars and the lone few employees who worked on the range Sunday mornings.

“Good morning,” Bruce replied as he locked up his car. When he turned to face Clint, there was a warm smile on his face. He had followed Clint’s suggestion and had worn gym clothes. It was almost surreal to see the guy out of his slacks and button downs, but the faded t-shirt and shorts looked oddly natural on him. 

“So,” Bruce began as he came to a stop in front of Clint, “this is where your archery classes are?”

Clint pressed a quick kiss against Bruce’s smiling lips as he hummed his response. “Only on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays,” he replied softly, pulling back enough to meet Bruce’s eyes. “Today, it’s our practice range.”

“Our?” Bruce repeated.

Another bright smile overtook Clint. “I’d like to teach you,” he explained, “but only if you want to.”

A look of surprise appeared on Bruce’s face. “You want to teach me?” he asked. “I’d hate to impede on your practice time.”

“You won’t be impeding on anything,” Clint promised, letting one of his hands trace down the soft fabric of Bruce’s t-shirt and the warm skin of his forearm. 

Bruce looked thoughtful as he thought about it, but Clint knew he had won when a small smile tugged at the professor’s lips. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be any good,” Bruce began, trailing off.

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Clint reassured him, grinning his triumph. He slotted their hands together and led the man into the range.

Clint waved to the person manning the counter, who waved them on back before returning to his hunting magazine, and they stepped out into the range. He had already set up two stations along the empty corridor of targets. 

As he led them to the stations, Bruce glanced around. “Is that second one for your friend?” Bruce asked.

“Kate?” Clint inquired, glancing over at Bruce for a moment before glancing at the other station. “Nah; she’s very particular about her practice space.” He twisted back to Bruce and smiled. “She’s really excited to meet you.”

“Actually, I need to tell you something along those lines,” Bruce said as they came to a stop at the shooting stations. “Tony kind of only agreed to watch Chrissie today if I promised to introduce you two soon.”

From the look on Bruce’s face, Clint could guess how soon the man’s friend wanted to meet him. “He’s not going to ambush us here, is he?” he asked, only half-joking.

“No, no,” Bruce answered, raising his free hand to wave off that concern, “but I did promise to ask if you had any plans after this.”

Clint took a moment to think. The only thing he really needed to do was laundry, but he would gladly push that off for a few more hours. “Nope,” he replied. “I’m totally free. What does he have planned?”

“Lunch,” Bruce said, “and it won’t just be Tony. It’ll be him, Pepper, their daughter Sam, and Chrissie. I don’t want to overwhelm you, so if you’d rather not…”

“No, hey, it’s cool,” Clint said reassuringly, capturing Bruce’s other hand in his. “I’d like to meet your friends. They’re important to you, and I want to get to know them.”

A relieved little smile touched Bruce’s lips, and Clint had to stomp down on the urge to lean forward and taste it. 

“Same here,” Bruce replied a moment later. He glanced over at the extra station before looking back at Clint. “Is Kate running late?”

“No,” Clint replied as another smile crossed his face. “If I played my cards right, we have an hour before Kate should get here. I wanted you to myself for a little bit first before she arrives.”

An adorable little blush darkened Bruce’s cheeks at that, but he was smiling. “Is that so?” he asked softly as he took a step closer, closing the space between them a little more.

Clint grinned and wrapped his arms around Bruce, drawing him even closer as his stomach started fluttering happily again. Their bodies came gently together, and Clint reveled in the warmth coming off of the other man.

“I like having you to myself sometimes,” Clint answered softly before he pressed a whisper of a kiss against Bruce’s mouth.

He wanted to do so much more, but they were out in public and Clint actually had plans to fill their hour before Kate got there. 

So instead of deepening the kiss and pulling Bruce closer, they broke apart. With a happy smile on his face, Clint turned to the shooting stations. He picked up the bow he had chosen earlier. “Here,” he said, handing it over to Bruce. The man took it carefully, like it was a loaded gun or something. 

Clint decided not to comment on it and instead grabbed his own personal bow. “I’m gonna give you that demonstration first,” he said as he stretched his arms again. He had stretched earlier, but he’d do it again when he walked Bruce through them. “Then I’ll give you a lesson if you’re still interested.”

“I will be,” Bruce replied with a smile, and Clint couldn’t help but grin at the promise.

He stepped up to the first station and slipped his quiver, full of arrows, over his shoulder. Then, he strapped on his wrist and finger guards before he drew an arrow. As he was setting himself up, he could feel Bruce’s eyes on him, watching closely. He wanted to turn and see the look on the other man’s face, but instead, he focused down the way at the target on the far side of the range.

He breathed; long slow breaths in and soft measured exhales out. Another inhale, and he drew his arrow back, feeling the pull of his muscles. He held the arrow nocked and relished the slow burn in his arms, shoulders, and back as he lined up his shot.

After taking another slow breath, he fired.

The arrow sailed down the range and landed dead-center in the target.

He heard Bruce draw a quiet breath of awe, and Clint finally allowed himself to turn around and look. There was quiet amazement on the man’s face. His eyes were still trained down the range—the full length of the range—at the arrow embedded into the center of the bulls-eye. 

“That’s incredible,” Bruce breathed softly, and he finally drew his eyes away from the target and looked at Clint. 

The archer felt his stomach start to do flips in his core again to be under the man’s scrutiny, but he was honestly growing to love the sensation. 

“How far away is that target?” Bruce asked.

“Fifty yards,” Clint replied, and he felt his stomach flip once more at the look of awe Bruce gave him.

“That’s…amazing,” Bruce said, turning to look down the way again.

“I can teach you,” Clint said with a smile, which widened when Bruce looked back at him with a smile on his face.

Clint set his bow and quiver down and encouraged Bruce to set down his bow as well. “First, we’re going to stretch,” he explained. “I’d hate to have you pull something.” He worried for half a second that Bruce would take that comment as a jab against his age, but Bruce only carefully set his bow down.

“I don’t want that either,” Bruce replied with a reassuring smile.

Together, Clint walked Bruce through a series of stretches that would loosen up his muscles. He focused on the stretches that he normally did with his clients at work, since a handful of them worked the same sorts of professions as Bruce. With those stretches out of the way, he focused in more on the ones he did with his archery students.

They moved on to the rotating stomach stretch—in which they had both laid down on the ground on their stomachs and brought their hands up toward the shoulders. “Now, keeping your hips on the ground,” Clint instructed, “push your upper body up by straightening your arms.” This was one of the stretches that most of his students had trouble with, and as he rose gracefully upward, he felt the muscles in his abdomen stretch.

He glanced over at Bruce and was surprised to see him performing the stretch effortlessly.

“Like this?” Bruce asked, peering over at Clint.

“Yeah, that’s…that’s perfect,” Clint replied. He found himself staring at the gorgeous arc Bruce’s back made, and how seamlessly he was able to do this stretch. “You’re really flexible,” he commented before he could stop himself or stop the thoughts running through his mind.

“I try to do yoga every morning,” Bruce explained, like it was nothing special.

Clint suddenly found himself wondering just _how_ flexible Bruce was, and he had to shake off those thoughts before he could let his mind get away from him. He cleared his throat. “Then we gently bend one arm and rotate the opposite shoulder toward the ground,” he went on, pointedly trying not to watch Bruce so he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

Once the stretches were completed and Clint’s mind was back on the task at hand, he helped Bruce put on the wrist and finger guards the range rented out. “You ready to give this a whirl?” Clint asked with a bright smile as he handed Bruce a quiver and his bow.

Bruce hesitated for only a moment before he carefully took both. “I’m not sure how good I’ll do,” he replied as he pulled the quiver over his shoulder. 

“I’ll walk you through what to do,” Clint promised. He drew an arrow out of Bruce’s quiver and beckoned Bruce to step up to the second shooting station. The target was twenty feet from the shooting line—a good beginning distance. 

“First, let’s get you in the proper stance. You’re right handed, right?” Clint asked.

“I am,” Bruce replied with a nod.

“That works great for us,” Clint said with a smile. “I’m left handed, so just mirror me.” 

He set himself up at the other station so they were facing one another. After giving Bruce another small smile, he placed his feet and squared his shoulders, watching as Bruce mimicked him. “Good,” he said. “Now raise your bow like this—” He demonstrated. “—and focus on your target.”

Clint watched Bruce turn to look down the range at the target, keeping an eye on Bruce’s grip on the bow and his arm to make sure they had the right bow. 

“Now breathe,” he instructed.

Bruce took a long breath in, and Clint got ready to tell him to breathe from his stomach and not his chest, but he found Bruce already breathing properly. It was a common beginner’s mistake to breathe solely from the chest, which moved the shoulders and interfered with an archer’s aim. It surprised him to see Bruce knew how to already breathe correctly. 

Maybe it was a yoga thing.

“Keep focusing on your target,” Clint said softly, and Bruce nodded slightly without taking his eyes from his target and without missing a beat in his deep breathing pattern, “and keep your arm steady.”

They stayed like that for a few moments that turned into a solid twenty seconds. Bruce’s arm and focus didn’t waver once, and Clint could feel himself smiling. “Good,” he said. “You can relax.”

Bruce lowered the bow and glanced over at Clint, looking curious.

“There are some students I get that start to fidget after a few seconds of stillness,” Clint explained with a casual shrug. “That, and I wanted to make sure your bow was right for you.”

“I think it is,” Bruce replied, glancing down at his grip on the bow, “but I’m not the expert here.”

They exchanged momentary smiles before Clint tossed the arrow in his hand into the air and caught the sharpened end. He offered the arrow to Bruce. “Now we’re gonna shoot,” he said. “I’ll shoot with you so you can see how it’s done.”

“Okay,” Bruce said as he carefully took the arrow.

Clint pulled his quiver back on and picked up his bow. He pulled an arrow out and got into his shooter’s stance again, smiling to himself when Bruce did the same. “Arrow goes like this,” he said, demonstrating, “and then line up your shot.”

He watched Bruce raise his bow and line up the shot, his eyes focused on the target again. His hold on the arrow looked good, and for a moment, Clint let his eyes linger on the man’s arms. There wasn’t even any real tension in his arms yet—that would come when Bruce drew the arrow—but Clint finally had a chance to just…appreciate them. His arms were normally hidden beneath jackets or button downs, so to have him in a t-shirt today allowed him a chance to look. 

Bruce was more strongly built than his loose fitting clothing let on. He wasn’t necessarily muscular, but there was something solid about him that Clint found alluring. 

Clint was snapped from his appreciative thoughts by the sound of Bruce’s voice.

“Should I nock the arrow or something?” Bruce asked slowly when they had been silent for a lingering minute.

Clint immediately felt heat spring to his cheeks and he hurriedly looked off down the range to avoid being caught staring. “U-Uh, yeah,” he stammered before he cleared his throat and cursed how his voice had broken like that. “Yes,” he tried again. “Like this.”

He risked a glance over and saw that Bruce was staring at him. Clint felt that heat coming off his face intensify, but Bruce only smiled in fond encouragement. 

Clint felt himself smile back before he brought his bow up. “Like this,” he said again with the kind of steadiness he was accustomed to. Without focusing down the way to the target, he nocked the arrow and held steady. 

He kept his eyes on Bruce and watched him nock his arrow. After an initial shake in his wrists, Bruce pulled his arrow back and kept his arms and hold steady. Either Clint had chosen the perfect bow, or Bruce was a _lot_ stronger than he looked.

“Now focus on your target again,” Clint instructed, “and when you feel ready, let go.”

Clint watched, entranced, as Bruce held his shot for a handful more seconds. 

After another deep inhale, Bruce fired.

The arrow flew through the air and hit the outer-most ring on the target. A few centimeters to the left, and the shot would have kept flying without even hitting the target at all.

“That was great!” Clint exclaimed with a radiant smile. He let his arms go slack on his own bow without taking the shot. 

“I almost missed,” Bruce protested feebly, still looking down the way with a tiny frown on his face.

“No, man, that was awesome,” Clint replied fervently. When Bruce glanced over at him with skepticism writ clearly across his features, he offered the man a bright grin. “You hit the target on your first try, Bruce,” he explained. “I have students who have been with me for _weeks_ who still haven’t managed to hit their mark. _I_ barely hit the target the first time I shot. Your stance was great, your aim was dead-on,” he said. “You just need to watch out for the recoil. Here, draw another arrow.”

As Bruce did as he was told, Clint set down his arrow. “Now, focus on your target and nock your arrow, but don’t fire yet.”

“Okay,” Bruce replied, drawing back the arrow and then holding steady.

Clint walked around the man and situated himself behind him. “Coming in behind you,” he warned in a murmur so as not to startle the guy.

Bruce still jumped a little when Clint touched the arm holding the bow aloft, but the arrow stayed nocked. Brown eyes darted momentarily over his shoulder to glance at Clint before focusing back on the target.

Clint smiled to himself and let his fingers drift along the warm skin of Bruce’s forearm until he reached the bow. Once there, he gripped it right beneath Bruce’s hand, careful not to interfere with Bruce’s aim. “Pretend I’m not here,” he said.

“That’ll be a bit of a challenge,” Bruce replied, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.

A soft laugh escaped from Clint and he marveled in the warmth flowing through his chest. “Line up your shot,” he said instead of thinking up a reply, “and when you’re ready to fire, keep this arm steady.”

Bruce didn’t answer, concentrating instead on the target a little ways down the range. Clint listened to him breathe and tried not to focus on how close he was to Bruce. The heat coming off of him was lovely, like it had been Friday night, and he had to look away down the range to stop himself from moving even closer.

A few heartbeats later, Bruce released the arrow. Clint’s grip on the bow stopped the recoil of Bruce’s shot, and the arrow hit closer to the center of the target.

Clint immediately grinned. “Once you master your recoil, you’ll be shooting like a pro,” he proclaimed, pride in his voice.

Bruce glanced over his shoulder again to smile at him. “I don’t know about that,” he demurred, but he looked decidedly pleased. His smile only grew warmer and fonder when Clint finally gave in to the urge to press up against Bruce’s back as much as the quiver would allow. “How did you get to be so good at this?” Bruce asked.

“I’ve been doing it for a long time,” Clint answered, letting his hands cautiously rest on Bruce’s waist. He peered to Bruce’s face to see if the touch was welcome and let his hands settle a bit more firmly when he saw the affection in Bruce’s eyes. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

A note of seriousness appeared on Bruce’s face. “The good kind of long story, or…?” He trailed off uncertainly and glanced at where the arrow was sticking out of his target. “If you’d rather not talk about it, that’s fine.”

“Nah, I can talk about it,” Clint said, but he extracted his hands from Bruce’s sides. He circled back around and picked up his bow again, fully aware that Bruce’s eyes were following every movement. 

He drew an arrow before he met Bruce’s eyes. It wasn’t so much curiosity that he saw, but patience and understanding. It gave him the motivation to speak again. “It starts way back when me and my brother Barney were playing musical houses in foster care,” he began, and immediately, the understanding on Bruce’s face took on an element of empathy. 

“Barney decided he had had enough one day, so we ran away,” Clint went on, thinking back to it. He couldn’t remember everything that had happened—it was years ago, almost a _lifetime_ ago—but he did remember what happened next. “We ended up finding this traveling carnival—like, a _legit_ carnival,” he pressed, looking back at Bruce with the expectation of seeing disbelief on the man’s face.

What he saw instead was the same empathetic expression from before and the quiet patience. Clint stared at him for a moment, feeling something twist in his gut before he focused down the range. “We were with them for about two months before the cops found us a few states over. But during those two months, the carnival’s star shooter Trickshot—I couldn’t tell you his real name—let me and Barney try his bow.”

He lined up his shot and fired a second later. He didn’t need to look to know that his arrow had hit its mark dead-on. As the sound of the arrow impacting the target reached them, Clint turned a smile over to Bruce. “Turned out I was pretty good,” he said. “The ringmaster even let me do quick shows on the slow nights.” He huffed a laugh at the memory. “ _The Amazing Hawkeye,_ they called me. It was short-lived, but archery stuck with me from then on.”

He drew another arrow and grinned when Bruce did the same. Together, they lined up their shots. It was only after Bruce loosed his arrow that he went on. “I did it through high school and, when I could finally afford it, through college.” 

A smile touched Clint’s lips when he saw Bruce’s arrow had landed on the target again, right around the same area his shot with Clint’s help had landed.

“Very good,” he praised, grinning brightly over at Bruce. Warmth rushed through him at the sight of Bruce’s smile.

They fired off a few more shots in a comfortable silence. Archery had always been meditative to Clint, and he was thrilled to have Bruce pick up on it so quickly.

Clint fired off another shot before he realized Bruce had paused. When he glanced over, he found Bruce watching him.

The man had that look on his face again, and Clint felt something in his core squirm. He stared at Bruce, waiting for the man to verbalize whatever it was that was distracting him.

Bruce smiled a little faintly under Clint’s attention, and he looked away. “I, uh… I know what that feeling was like,” Bruce explained a little vaguely, “wanting to run away from foster care.”

Suddenly, that empathetic expression made sense.

But before he could even formulate a kind of response, the smile on Bruce’s face grew a little warmer. “I never thought to seek out the carnival, though,” he said in a mildly teasing tone.

It was a deflection, to be sure, but Clint couldn’t help but grin. “What, you never wanted to sleep on piles of hay with nothing but nightmarish clowns and the Strong Lady to keep you company?” he asked. At the look of half-real horror, Clint shrugged. “I don’t blame you,” he said seriously. “It wasn’t all that great.”

“I can’t imagine it would have been,” Bruce agreed.

They exchanged soft smiles and fell into the pattern of shooting and chatting. Their topics didn’t return to their shared experiences in foster care—or what that meant about their family lives. They stuck to safer topics, like plans for the week (which included, to Clint’s delight, more coffee dates) or how work was going. 

Clint hardly realized how much time had passed until after Bruce landed a clean shot against the target.

“Wow,” came an impressed voice from further down the range. Clint immediately grinned and watched Bruce glance over his shoulder at the newly-arrived Kate Bishop. 

She had her gear in her hands and her quiver over her shoulder and against her jacket-covered back. Her purple sunglasses were pushed up into her dark hair and there was a grin on her face.

Her eyes were on Bruce. “Clint’s already converting you to the archer’s way?” she asked in a teasing lilt.

Clint lowered his bow. “He’s doing great,” he replied proudly. “Very first shot, he hit the target.”

“Barely,” Bruce reminded him, but there was a warm little smile on his face.

“You still hit the target,” Clint said, stepping forward and coming to a stop next to the other man. He wrapped an arm around Bruce’s waist and tried to fight the floppy feeling in his stomach when Bruce leaned a little into the touch. “Bruce, this is Kate Bishop, friend and hopefully eventual co-camp instructor.”

“If we ever get enough parents interested,” Kate replied with a light scoff.

Clint smirked, but continued. “Kate, this is Dr. Bruce Banner. He teaches physics up at the university.”

Bruce offered Kate his hand and a smile. “Nice to meet you, Kate,” he said as they shook hands. “Clint’s told me about the summer camp idea you two want to make happen. It’s a really great idea.”

Kate smiled brightly at that. “Well, I _would_ take full props for it, but credit where credit’s due and all that.”

“Thanks, Kate,” Clint deadpanned, biting back his grin. He was thrilled to see the two of them interacting so easily together.

Kate shot him this innocent smile that made Bruce huff a soft laugh, and their hands parted. “I’ve known this guy for a few years, now,” she said, jerking a thumb over at Clint, “so don’t take anything from him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bruce said with a placid little smile that made Kate laugh and Clint finally grin.

Kate wandered back around them and started to get set-up on the other side of Bruce, encouraging them to get back to practice. 

“We’re gonna go get our arrows,” Clint said to Kate, catching Bruce’s hand in his, “so don’t start shooting until we get back. I don’t want to round out this day with a trip to the hospital.”

“Aye, aye, Hawkeye,” Kate replied with a loose salute and a roll of her eyes.

Once Bruce had set down his bow, they made their way down the range hand-in-hand. 

They finished collecting Bruce’s arrows before they moved further down the range to collect Clint’s, which were still in the target nearly against the back wall of the range. 

Clint waited until they were well out of earshot before he smiled over at Bruce. “So, what do you think?” he asked.

Bruce glanced over at him as they closed in on the other target. “She seems nice,” he answered with a smile. “She’s a lot younger than I had originally pictured her.”

“Yeah, she just turned twenty-one, like, two months ago,” Clint admitted. “We met here, actually, when she moved here after graduating from high school.” He turned and looked Bruce dead in the eye. “Be thankful that you didn’t have to meet teenaged Kate,” he said in a low, conspiratorial whisper as he bit back another grin.

Bruce rolled his lips together to keep his smile at bay, but before he could offer a reply, Kate’s voice echoed down to them.

“You two better not be whispering things about me!” she shouted. When they glanced back at her, she had her arms crossed and, even from where they were, Clint could see the over-exaggerated frown on her face. Bruce raised his hands in a surrendering motion, and Kate’s hands went straight to her hips. “Bruce, don’t listen to a thing that man says!”

“Too late!” Clint called back to her. As Kate let out a sound of defeat, Bruce laughed. 

They collected all of their arrows and returned to their shooting stations as Kate finished up stretching. Clint and Bruce picked up their bows and got back into position.

With how they were set up, Kate was behind Bruce when he was shooting. Since he was left handed, Clint’s body faced both of them.

So he noticed as Bruce was lining up his next shot, nocking back his arrow and breathing, that Kate’s eyes were on Bruce. She was looking at his grip on the bow and Clint watched her eyes trace along the muscles in his arm. She was clearly studying him—more than just as an archery novice.

She must have felt his eyes on her, for Kate glanced past Bruce and easily met Clint’s eyes. They looked at each other for a moment before she gave him a solemn nod of approval.

Clint bit back a snort of laughter and Kate grinned deviously at him.

“What are you two doing?” Bruce asked suddenly without looking away from the target. Surprise sprung to Kate’s face, and Clint could feel his own eyes widen slightly. 

Their silence must have sounded guilty (that’s how it sounded to Clint, anyway), for Bruce glanced away from the target. He turned and glanced over his shoulder at Kate, and then he met Clint’s eyes. “You do realize I’m a single parent to a young child, right?” he reminded them. 

Clint could feel the beginnings of a smile threatening to appear on his lips. “Do you have a sixth sense for troublemaking?” he asked.

“It’s like a superpower,” Bruce admitted, and Clint let his grin spread wide across his face. 

Behind them, Kate laughed. “Oh, I _like_ this guy,” she said in amusement. “Clint, sounds like you’re gonna be in trouble a _lot.”_

“Me?” Clint asked, feigning innocence. “Never.”

When both Kate and Bruce snorted laughs in near unison, Clint knew they were going to get along just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So, I hate to do this, but I'm putting this story on a brief hiatus. I'm not doing this because I've lost my motivation to continue writing this fic. Quite the opposite, actually. I was struck with a bolt of inspiration recently, and I feel like I wouldn't do it justice if I'm having self-imposed deadlines hanging over me.
> 
> So, more than anything, this is just a posting hiatus. I plan to keep writing in the interim, but I feel like the quality of my work will suffer if I'm feeling rushed to meet deadlines.
> 
> As of right now, I'm planning on getting back onto my posting schedule sometime in August, no later than early September.
> 
> I just need a break from posting to really focus in on the quality of my stories. Thank you for being understanding, and I promise to be back with more later this summer!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

“So,” Tony Stark said, “you’re the mysterious boyfriend.”

They were in a restaurant with the rest of the released church-goers. It was noisy, but Clint could still hear the way his heart suddenly beat a little harder at the word _boyfriend._

With six of them, they were granted a booth in the back corner of the restaurant, where it was thankfully a little quieter. The other four had already snagged the table by the time Clint and Bruce had gotten to the building, delayed with lingering conversation with Kate at the shooting range. 

Chrissie had immediately smiled radiantly when the hostess had showed Bruce and Clint to the rest of the waiting party. After a cursory hug from her dad, she demanded that Clint sit next to her.

As it was, Clint was seated in the middle of the bench on their side of the table, sandwiched between Bruce and Chrissie. It put him directly across from Tony Stark, who had been studying him ever since they had approached the table, let alone sat down.

On Stark’s left and directly across from Bruce, Pepper Potts-Stark sighed. “Tony,” she said in a lightly reprimanding voice. 

To Stark’s right, Samantha Stark-Potts failed to bite back her smile.

“Not so sure how mysterious I am,” Clint replied before Stark could respond to his wife. He felt everyone’s eyes turn away from Tony and return to him, but Clint turned his own gaze over to Bruce. Bruce, who had offered warnings about Tony Stark (and preemptive apologies), gave him a tiny smile, but the way his dark brown eyes were fairly sparkling made that fluttering feeling return full-force to Clint’s stomach.

With a rush of warmth flowing through him, Clint looked back at Stark, easily meeting the man’s intense stare. “But yeah,” he finally went on, “I am the mysterious boyfriend.”

Under the table, Bruce lightly pressed their knees together, and Clint had to bite back the sappy smile that threatened to appear.

Before the conversation could go on, the waiter came by to take Bruce and Clint’s drink orders. After he had departed, a momentary silence fell over the table. Stark and Pepper were still looking at him, Sammie and Chrissie were both grinning brightly at him, but more than anything else, Clint focused on the solid presence of Bruce next to him.

A warm smile crossed Pepper’s face. “So, Clint,” she began, “Bruce says you work at one of the gyms around here. What all do you do?”

“Well,” Clint said, feeling himself relax a little under the friendly smile she was giving him, “I’m a personal trainer at SHIELD Gym, and I’m also the archery instructor.”

“Like Robin Hood,” Chrissie interrupted in a low whisper across the table to Sammie, who turned her bright eyes over to Clint, wide with wonder.

Clint immediately grinned at the sight. “Like Robin Hood,” he confirmed to the adorable redheaded little girl. “I’ve recently started assisting with my friend and colleague’s gymnastics class, which is where I met Bruce and Chrissie.”

Bruce’s daughter instantly beamed. “Clint helped me on the balance beam,” Chrissie explained, looking at Tony and Pepper. “We go for walks sometimes after preschool with his puppy, and he looks _so_ pretty when he dresses up.”

Next to him, Bruce huffed a soft laugh. Clint grinned and knocked their knees together again before he looked back at Chrissie. “Everyone looks pretty in a tiara,” he told her, and both of the little girls giggled.

The waiter returned then with Clint and Bruce’s drinks. The conversation was put on hold as they all gave their lunch orders.

Once the waiter has left with their respective orders, Clint sensed the married couple looking at him again.

Before he could meet their eyes to potentially engage in conversation again, there was a light tap on his arm. Clint glanced over to find Chrissie staring at him. She grinned up at him and scooted the kid’s menu—the kind with little games that normally came with three or four crayons to keep children preoccupied—so it sat on the table between them. She had already colored the figures in with the kind of disregard for boundaries that was typical of kids so young.

“Wanna help me with the word search?” she asked, all bright-eyed and still smiling.

Clint couldn’t help but smile back, let alone say ‘no.’ “Sure,” he said, and he accepted a red crayon from the little girl. “Did you kids have fun together this morning?” he asked the girls.

Both of the little girls immediately grinned in unison. “Yeah!” they said together, and Clint had to fight the smile that threatened to appear on his face. “We played ponies and superheroes today,” Chrissie explained, “and we watched _lots_ of movies last night.”

“You watched two,” Stark corrected her.

As both of the children frowned at him, Pepper consolingly patted his hand. She turned an amused expression to Clint. “Don’t mind him,” she said like her husband wasn’t right next to her. “He’s just grumpy that they made him play as Mr. Incredible instead of as the bad guy.”

“I’d make a more convincing Syndrome, is all I’m saying,” Stark shot back casually with an airy wave of his hand.

Next to Clint, Bruce snorted a laugh.

_“Anyway,”_ Sammie cut in, and both Stark and Pepper grinned in amusement. The redheaded child looked back at Clint. “We watched _The Incredibles_ and the one where the guy turns into a llama—”

“I _love_ that movie,” Chrissie disclosed to Clint.

“—and then we went to sleep,” Sammie finished like she hadn’t been interrupted.

“Wow,” Clint said, making himself sound impressed, “sounds like you guys had a fun night and morning.” 

There was a part of him, however, that wondered why Bruce hadn’t let him know he had the evening free last night. It would have been a great opportunity for them to go out and do something together.

“It was,” Chrissie agreed, cutting into Clint’s thoughts. There was something disheartened in her voice that brought Clint’s eyes away from the word search and to the little girl. She leaned a little on the table so she could look around Clint to her father. “Daddy couldn’t stay for the movies, though.”

“Daddy had lots of lab reports to grade last night,” Bruce replied. “I worked extra hard last night so we’d get to have fun today.”

Chrissie instantly brightened up again at that, and Clint felt that part in him immediately go quiet.

“Speaking of fun,” Stark said, drawing everyone’s attention back to him, “I promised the girls we’d go to the park after lunch.” His eyes were trained intently on Clint, and despite the initial urge to squirm under the intensity of that gaze, Clint kept a neutral expression. “You should come with us.”

“Only if you want to,” Pepper added as she turned an irritated look over at Stark, “and if you’re available. Don’t let Tony bully you into anything.”

“Bully?” Stark repeated, both feigning hurt and trying to sound innocent all in one go, and failing spectacularly on both fronts. 

“Seriously, though,” Bruce said, drawing Clint’s eyes to him. He easily met Bruce’s eyes, and he had to fight the fluttery feeling in his gut that wanted to make a dopey smile cross his face. “If you would like to come, we’d love to have you, but please don’t feel pressured.”

Clint smiled. “Nah, I’m pretty free for the rest of the day,” he replied. Under the table, he lightly nudged Bruce’s leg with his own in reassurance. “I just need to head home at some point to let Lucky out.”

“Your puppy?” Sammie asked eagerly. Both girls had perked up at the mention of his dog.

“Why don’t you and Bruce go _get Lucky_ after lunch, and we’ll meet you at the park?” Stark suggested, and if Clint didn’t know any better, he thought he heard something _suggestive_ in his tone.

Pepper swatted her husband in the arm, so he probably heard right.

As Stark rubbed at his arm, grinning to himself and not looking the least bit abashed, Clint risked a glance over at Bruce. There was a faint blush on the man’s face, but his eyes were trained on Clint.

“Have you already taken Lucky for his walk?” Bruce asked.

“Not yet, no,” Clint replied, curious by the mischievous spark in Bruce’s eyes.

With a single nod, Bruce returned his focus to Stark. “Good idea, Tony,” he said casually. “We’ll go _get Lucky_ after lunch.”

The two of them stared at one another for a long moment until, finally, an impressed smile twitched to Stark’s lips. Before he could offer whatever response had been on the tip of his tongue, however, their waiter arrived with their appetizer.

==

“I’m sorry about Tony,” Bruce said once they were on the road to Clint’s apartment. 

Clint glanced away from the road as he coasted to the red light ahead. Bruce was still looking out the windshield from the passenger seat, but he peered over and met Clint’s eyes as the car rocked to a stop. 

“I’ve known Tony for years,” Bruce went on apologetically, “and he just…gets really overprotective of the people he’s close to.”

“No, hey, it’s okay,” Clint replied, giving the other man a smile. “It’s good to know you’ve got people in your corner.”

A smile touched Bruce’s lips. “He’ll warm up to you,” he said as he looked out the windshield again. He gestured vaguely ahead, and Clint glanced forward to see that the light had changed to green.

As Clint pressed on the accelerator to get them moving again, he thought. Tony Stark had been the one to give Bruce those balloons as a welcome back gift, and he was also the one to let Bruce work from home as a contractor for Stark Industries when Chrissie was still an infant. “How long have you two known each other?” he asked.

Bruce drew a long breath in, and when Clint peeked over, there was a thoughtful expression on his face. “Sixteen? Seventeen years?” he answered, though he didn’t sound certain. “There was this conference that we both went to back in college. He was a _much_ different person, but then, so was I.”

Clint took a turn, and as they pulled to another stop at the next light, he looked over at Bruce as the man went on.

“We’ve been through a lot together,” Bruce explained softly, still looking out the window. “We were there for each other when we graduated, when we got our Ph. D.’s, when we became parents…”

He trailed off, eyes still fixed on the road in front of them. Clint glanced over at him and he saw something on the man’s face. It wasn’t an expression he was accustomed to seeing on Bruce’s face, but it took him back to that crosswalk when Clint had asked how long he had been a single parent. 

Clint suddenly couldn’t help but wonder if Stark had also been there for Bruce during that time, after his girlfriend/wife/whatever had left him alone with their three week old child.

But then, considering _how_ overprotective Stark seemed to be, Clint didn’t have to wonder for long.

A burst of gratitude swept through him for Tony Stark.

Bruce nearly jumped when Clint settled his hand on Bruce’s knee. Clint was focused on the road, but in his periphery, he saw Bruce look at him. “He’s important to you,” the archer said. “I want us to get along like you did with Kate this morning.”

There was a moment of silence between them before Clint felt Bruce’s hand settle over his, and a smile overtook his features. 

“He’ll warm up to you,” Bruce said again, only this time, it sounded like a promise. “If I can’t talk him around, Pepper can be very persuasive.”

“I kinda believe it,” Clint replied, and he grinned at the sound of Bruce’s chuckle.

The rest of the drive to Clint’s apartment passed in an easy quiet, each of them taking comfort in the point of contact between them. Their hands reluctantly separated when Clint pulled his car to a stop in front of the building. 

They got out and started up the apartment steps together, walking close enough to one another that their hands grazed each other on every other step. 

The elevator was still busted—it hadn’t been working for the past few months—so they climbed the steps up to Clint’s apartment on the top floor. 

As they were rounding the landing on the third floor, one of his neighbors was just locking up her front door with her two young kids in tow, one on her hip and the other by her side.

“Hey Simone,” Clint greeted her as he and Bruce paused on the landing.

Simone turned and when she saw who it was, she smiled. “Hey Clint,” she replied. “Back from practice?” Her eyes drifted curiously over to Bruce for a moment before she was focused back on Clint.

“Yeah. We’re just back to grab Lucky before we’re off again,” Clint answered, glancing back at Bruce as a smile touched his lips. “Bruce, this is Simone and her Tiny Simones,” he introduced. Across the way, his neighbor snorted a laugh. “Simone, this is Bruce, my, uh…my boyfriend,” he said, quiet wonder in his voice at being able to give Bruce that title. They hadn’t really talked about it yet, but at the restaurant when Tony had confronted him, Bruce had only given him that tiny smile and a gorgeous sparkle in his eyes.

The same thing happened now, but unlike before, Clint didn’t stop himself from grinning like a fool.

When he finally tore his eyes away from the expression on Bruce’s face, he found Simone watching them with this happy little smile. Before she could say anything, however, there was the sound of someone honking their car horn on the street below. 

“And that would be my sister,” Simone said dryly, and Clint cracked a grin. She finished locking her front door and stashed away her keys before she and her older son—five years old, if Clint remembered correctly—joined hands. “We need to get going,” she said to Clint as they started approaching the stairs. She offered Bruce a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Bruce. Congrats to you both—”

The car horn sounded again.

Simone huffed an irritated sigh. “I need to get out there before the neighbors start complaining,” she grumbled.

“You won’t hear a peep from me,” Clint replied with a grin.

“It was nice meeting you,” Bruce offered as Simone and her kids began taking the stairs down to the ground floor.

As they returned to their trek up to the fourth floor, Bruce caught Clint’s hand in his. Their fingers easily entwined, and when Clint glanced over at him, there was this happy look on Bruce’s face that made Clint grin. “What?” he asked as they came to a pause on the steps.

Bruce shrugged a little and peered down at their connected hands, but there was no mistaking the smile on his lips. “Nothing,” he replied softly. “It’s just…” He trailed off, and then met Clint’s eyes. “Boyfriend,” he finally said, smiling warmly.

“Is that okay?” Clint asked quietly. Bruce didn’t look overwhelmed or anything, but he wanted to be sure.

“More than okay,” Bruce answered honestly.

Clint beamed and pressed a light kiss against Bruce’s lips. 

No matter how much Clint just wanted to keep kissing him right there in the stairwell, they were expected in the park. Their hands stayed together as they finally made it to Clint’s apartment. 

“I’ll, uh, give you a full tour of the place when I’ve had a chance to clean up a little,” Clint said self-consciously to Bruce as he unlocked the door and they walked into his apartment. It wasn’t horribly messy, and he had thankfully thrown out the old pizza boxes that had taken up residence on his table, but it wasn’t anything like Bruce’s house. 

“A little clutter isn’t going to scare me off, Clint,” Bruce replied while Clint closed the door behind them. He watched Bruce’s eyes do a general sweep of the open floor, curiosity on his face. 

A smile touched Bruce’s lips. “It’s very purple in here,” he commented as he eyed the curtains.

Before Clint could reply, he heard the clicking of claws on the floorboards. A moment later, Lucky came bounding over, tail wagging and tongue lolling. The dog ran straight to Bruce, who immediately smiled and crouched down to scratch behind Lucky’s ears.

“I’m beginning to think he likes you more than me,” Clint remarked as he pulled the leash from a nearby drawer. 

“I doubt it,” Bruce demurred, still showering the dog with attention. “He’s just excited to see unfamiliar people. He hasn’t seen me in over a week, after all.”

“Well then, he’s going to have an exciting afternoon,” Clint replied with a grin.

==

When they got to the park, Chrissie and Sammie both immediately abandoned Tony and Pepper with twin shouts of excitement and raced over to greet them—or more likely, to greet Lucky.

Tony and Pepper took their time coming over, talking lowly between themselves. Clint watched them briefly before one of the girls gave a small gasp.

“Did your puppy hurt his eye?” Sammie asked, looking up at Clint with heartbreaking distress on her face. 

Chrissie looked over at her friend without pausing in her petting of Lucky’s head. “Lucky only has one eye,” she disclosed.

That didn’t do anything to reassure the redheaded child. 

When Sammie’s distraught eyes returned to Clint, he offered the little girl a calming smile. “A long time ago, Lucky saved me from some bad people,” he explained as he crouched down to be more at eye level with the girls, who were watching him with rapt attention. “He hurt his eye while he was doing it, but he’s still the same happy, loving dog he was before.”

Both girls’ eyes went wide and they looked back at Lucky in reverence. “He’s a superhero puppy,” Sammie whispered in awe.

“Superpuppy!” Chrissie cheered, and both kids immediately broke into wide grins. 

Since there weren’t too many other people around, Clint let Lucky off of his leash so the kids could play fetch with him. Clint stayed close to Bruce, who had stepped up to his side after the archer had risen from his crouch. He wasn’t sure how openly affectionate Bruce wanted to be in front of his friends and daughter, so Clint kept his hands to himself. 

He did, however, stay close enough for their arms to brush together and their shoulders to bump. 

As Sammie threw the tennis ball off in a wild direction, Tony and Pepper finally approached. “Now she’s _really_ going to beg for a dog,” Tony faux-complained, watching his daughter cheer with Chrissie as Lucky ran after the ball.

Next to Clint, Bruce rolled his lips together to hide a grin. “But she’s finally getting that little brother or sister she’s been begging for,” he pointed out, like he was trying to be reasonable.

“But not before Christmas,” Tony countered even as his hand traveled to Pepper’s midsection. Sure enough, there was a small, barely-there bump that Clint hadn’t noticed before. Pepper’s hand covered Tony’s, and Clint looked away from the intimate moment.

“If she starts begging for a dog,” Tony went on as Clint’s eyes redirected themselves at the kids playing with his dog, “I’m blaming you.” 

Clint didn’t need to be looking to know Tony was pointing at him. With his eyes still trained on Lucky, who was chasing after another wild throw, he shrugged lightly. His shoulder bumped into Bruce’s as he did it, and he reveled in that brief point of contact. “Just bring up how her other pets will be jealous of a puppy,” he offered. “She does have other pets, right?”

He immediately grinned at the bark of laughter that escaped from Bruce. 

“Laugh all you want, Banner,” Tony said; Clint could hear the smile in his voice, “but you’ll be in the same boat when the baby gets here and Chrissie starts begging you for one.”

“She’ll have yours to play with,” Bruce rejoined. Clint bit back his smile of amusement.

Before the conversation could go any further, Chrissie and Sammie came running up. “Daddy, Daddy!” Chrissie nearly shouted in her excitement. Both girls grabbed a hold of Bruce’s hands. “Come throw the ball for Lucky!”

“We wanna see how far he’ll run,” Sammie said, staring up at Bruce with imploring eyes. “Please?”

Bruce, of course, smiled that heartwarming smile in the face of a child pleading him for something. “Alright,” he said.

The girls cheered as they began to pull him away from the group of adults.

Bruce turned a look back at Clint, and then met Pepper’s eyes. Clint caught Pepper bite back a smile and nod ever so slightly. A look of mild relief flashed through Bruce’s eyes before he returned his eyes to Clint to give him a reassuring smile.

As Chrissie plopped the slobber-covered tennis ball into her father’s hand, Clint glanced discretely back and forth between Bruce and Pepper, wondering what he had missed.

Clint watched Bruce throw the ball and his dog go running after it, the children cheering, but he wasn’t so distracted to not notice how Tony and Pepper moved a little closer. He glanced over and found Pepper watching the scene before them, but Tony was watching him. Being caught red-handed in the act didn’t make the guy look away, either.

He could almost see the thoughts running through Tony’s head, no doubt judging him and sizing him up. But before Tony could say anything and Clint could somehow begin to reassure him, Pepper spoke up.

“We may need to schedule some play dates with you and your dog,” she began, perfectly casual. When she looked over at Clint, there was a soft smile on her lips. “If that’s alright with you, of course. I’m sure you don’t want another young child impeding on your time with Bruce.”

“No, it’s fine,” Clint replied honestly. He tucked his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting nervously. It wasn’t that he was actually nervous, really, but in the face of Pepper Potts’ sincerity, paired with Tony Stark’s piercing and protective stare, he felt a little overwhelmed. “It’s good to see them having some fun together. I know Bruce’s schedule is crazy busy now that he’s teaching full-time again, so it’s good to have these breaks.”

He must have answered something correctly, for Pepper’s small smile blossomed into something more. 

Beside her, Tony quirked his head slightly to the side. “So is that what your coffee dates have been?” he asked. “Breaks?”

“Tony,” Pepper reprimanded in a warning tone.

As Tony glanced over at his wife, looking ready to argue his point, Clint stepped in. “Our coffee dates are breaks in our busy schedules, yeah,” Clint answered, drawing both pairs of eyes back to him, “but it’s also been a chance to get to know each other better. We…We haven’t really known each other all that long, y’know? And with our work schedules, we don’t have a whole lot of free time that overlaps.” 

He glanced back over at Bruce and the two little girls, who were giggling at the face of exaggerated disgust Bruce had on as he wrestled the slobbery tennis ball out of Lucky’s mouth. A grin overtook Clint’s features, one that he didn’t bother to hide from Tony and Pepper. 

Before he could go on, Bruce glanced back at them—or specifically, at his long-time friend. “Hey Tony, you want to throw the ball for a bit?” he called over.

As a look of genuine disgust flashed across Tony’s face, Sammie whirled around and brought her hands together. “Please, Daddy?” she asked in a sweet voice. “Please, please, please?” 

“Please, please, please?” Chrissie added eagerly.

Clint could see the man’s resolve weakening in the face of the two children, and he rolled his lips together to hide a smile as Tony returned his attention to Bruce. “Why can’t you do it?” he asked.

“Because I spent the morning practicing archery,” Bruce explained as he approached, slobbery tennis ball in hand, “and my arms are sore. And don’t you _dare_ make the comment I know you want to say in front of my kid,” he warned when a leering smirk appeared on Tony’s face.

Bruce held out the ball to Tony, who immediately stopped grinning and actually raised his hands and took a small step back. “You know I don’t like to be handed things, Big Guy,” Tony said, eyeing the toy.

“And we both know you got over that with me years ago,” Bruce replied without a beat of hesitation. 

Tony huffed and finally snatched the ball from Bruce’s outstretched hand. The look of disgust that instantly appeared on the man’s face made Clint snort a soft laugh of amusement, one that he didn’t bother to hide since the two kids were giggling loud enough to cover him. 

Next to Clint, Pepper huffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop being so dramatic,” she scolded, though her tone was more fond than reprimanding. “I’ve seen you touch things far worse than that.”

Clint could see the mischievous glint in Tony’s eye, but Bruce grabbed his forearm and dragged him toward where Chrissie and Sammie were waiting with Lucky. The warning glare on Bruce’s face kept whatever lecherous remark bubbling around in Tony’s mind from being spoken.

Tony rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be bodily pulled along, but he turned a significant look over his shoulder at Pepper. She merely raised a single brow in question, and Tony raised both of his.

As Bruce and Tony reached the kids, Clint peered over at Pepper. “Is there some sort of eyebrow language you guys communicate through?” he asked.

Pepper met his eyes and smiled. “When you’ve known someone as long as we’ve known each other, you learn to just read one another,” she replied. 

They glanced back in time to see Tony hurl the ball away and Lucky go chasing after it. The guy had a surprisingly strong arm, considering he was a businessman and part-time professor.

As Chrissie and Sammie both cheered uproariously for his dog, Clint realized Pepper was looking at him again. When he gazed over, her eyes were indeed on him, but instead of the analytical eye Tony had been subjecting him to all afternoon, Pepper was just…looking, for the sake of looking. 

When their eyes met, she smiled again. “Despite how Tony has been today, we really are glad to finally meet you,” she said, sounding genuine as she looked back across the way. Clint thought she was looking at her husband, but when he followed her gaze, he realized she was looking at Bruce. 

“It’s so great to see Bruce like this again,” she went on quietly. “It’s…it’s been a tough road for him, and we’re just relieved he’s opening himself up again.” 

Clint glanced away from the two men and their daughters to look back over at Pepper. She was still looking at the scene before them, and Clint noticed her hand had returned to the growing little bump in her midsection. 

Pepper peered over at him, and Clint quickly looked away from her stomach and met her eyes. Her eyes were this bluish-green color, but more than that, they fairly sparkled with something like fondness. 

Another little smile touched her lips. “Tony and I will be in town this coming weekend,” she began conversationally. Her smile turned mischievous, and suddenly her marriage to Tony Stark made a little more sense. “I’ll make sure Bruce knows we can babysit Chrissie, should you two want to make plans.”

Clint felt himself start to grin. “Really?”

Pepper only smiled secretively again before she went back to looking at the two men and two kids in front of them.

Clint liked her.

==

“Taking a break from all the fun, mysterious boyfriend?” Tony asked as he sat down on the park bench.

After a while, the girls had gotten bored playing fetch. Before they tore off toward the playground, Chrissie and Sammie had circled back and grabbed Clint’s hands. Their pleading eyes were too great for him, and before he knew it, he was playing with them on the playground. He spun them around on the spinning contraption until they were giggling wildly in their dizziness. 

While the kids were lying on the mulch and giggling together about how the sky was spinning, Clint glanced back at the rest of the group only to find Bruce and Lucky (on his leash again) approaching. Pepper and Tony were hanging back for a moment, watching the scene as they had a quiet conversation between just the two of them, but before Clint could focus on them for long, he had Bruce by his side.

Bruce smiled at him, warm and affectionate, and Clint couldn’t help but smile back. He gently pulled Bruce closer to him and put an arm around his shoulders. His smile had widened when he felt Bruce’s hand settle against his waist and his arm rest against Clint’s back.

After that, Chrissie and Sammie had left Clint and Bruce by the park bench to go play with Tony and Pepper for a while. Clint had sat down on the ground with his back against the seat of the bench so Lucky could lay his head in his lap and take a nap. 

Bruce had sat down on the bench, close enough for Clint to settle against one of his legs. Clint had hummed happily when one of Bruce’s hands started hesitantly messing with his hair. He had leaned more fully against Bruce then in encouragement for the man to continue.

Clint remembered the warmth of those points of contacts and felt himself smile a little. Across the park, Bruce and Pepper were beginning to push Sammie and Chrissie on the swings, where the girls had dragged the two adults off to a minute ago. 

On his lap, Lucky let out a long breath and resettled before going back to sleep.

“You’re not gonna call me _mysterious boyfriend_ forever, are you?” Clint asked half-jokingly, peering up at the man. 

There was maybe a foot of space between where Clint was leaning back against the bench and where Tony was seated upon it. Tony had pulled out his phone and was doing something on it.

“I’m sure I can come up with some other nicknames, Legolas,” he replied airily without looking away from his phone.

Clint snorted a laugh and went back to looking across the playground at the swing set. 

“So, are you taking a break from all the fun, or what?” Tony asked again.

When Clint glanced over at him again, the phone was down and Tony was staring directly at him. “It’s not so much me taking the break as it is Lucky,” Clint answered, letting his fingers run through his dog’s thick golden coat. Lucky let out another long breath, but didn’t wake up. “He usually doesn’t get this much exercise in a single afternoon, so he’s pretty worn out.”

“Well, he’ll definitely be getting more attention, now that you’ve introduced Bruce to him,” Tony remarked, letting his eyes go back to his phone as it chimed with an incoming email. “Bruce loves dogs.”

“Does he?” Clint asked, twisting a little to give Tony more of his attention. He was eager to learn something new about Bruce.

“Sure,” Tony replied in a distracted tone, thumbs flying on his phone as he typed back a response. “He had dog when I met him, years ago. Even made me babysit the thing while he was in India,” he added in a grumble that made Clint grin.

“He mentioned you two have known each other for a long time,” Clint commented to keep the conversation going.

“Oh yeah,” Tony responded with a nonchalant shrug. “We’ve known each other for more than fifteen years. Met in college, somehow became friends, never stopped being friends.” He paused and turned a curious and scrutinizing look down at Clint. “How old were you fifteen years ago?”

Clint felt himself bristle a little. He and Bruce hadn’t really discussed the age difference between them, but it hardly seemed like an obstacle now that they were where they were in their relationship.

“Thirteen,” Clint answered in a neutral tone.

Tony made a face. “Jesus, you’re young,” he replied. “I didn’t think the kids these days went for the _hot suburban dad_ thing.”

Clint nearly choked on his own spit. “I’m almost twenty-nine, thank you,” he protested. “And aren’t you married?”

“Seven years,” Tony confirmed without pause, smiling down at Clint. “And being married doesn’t make me blind, y’know. While he may not think it, Bruce is very good looking.” He shifted on the bench until he was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“Look,” Tony went on in a softer tone, “no one is happier than I am to see Bruce back out in the field. He’s one of my best friends; I’d have to be a real asshole to not want to see him happy again.” He glanced momentarily over at the swing set, where both the little girls were laughing in carefree abandon as Bruce and Pepper pushed them along. 

“I want to see him happy again,” Tony repeated, quieter and more heartfelt than before. He glanced back at Clint and, for the first time since he had met the guy, Tony’s eyes lacked the analytical and almost judgmental appearance. Instead, he just looked earnest. “So I’m really hoping that what you two have isn’t just purely physical. I mean,” he said, sitting back and raising his hands in surrender, “I don’t want the details. _Please_ spare me the details, but, y’know…” He shrugged a little. “He needs more than just the _wham, bam, thank you, ma’am._ Or I guess _sir,_ in your case.”

“I barely know you,” Clint sputtered. He could feel the heat coming off his face in the face of Tony’s frankly blunt comments. He knew the guy had his heart in the right place, but _really?_

Tony flashed him a toothy grin and leaned back against the bench. “Then you’d better get used to me, buddy,” he said, making himself comfortable on the bench, “because I’m your boyfriend’s best friend.”

Clint stared at him for another moment, wondering how this guy was even real. “It’s _really_ not any of your business,” he replied a few heartbeats later, “but no, I’m not in this just for… _that._ I’ve done that before in the past, and it ended horribly. No, I…” he trailed off, glancing back across the playground. He smiled at the sight of Chrissie and Sammie trying to push Bruce on the swings as Pepper stood back and laughed at them. 

“No,” he repeated, still smiling.

There was a pause before he heard Tony reply. “Good,” he said. When Clint glanced back at him, there was a satisfied look on his face. He grinned when Clint met his eyes. “I wanted to make that clear,” he said. 

“You’re not gonna interrogate me every time you see me, are you?” Clint asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tony quirked an eyebrow of his own. “You gonna give me a reason to?” he returned. At Clint’s frown, he raised a reassuring hand. “Look, I’m not trying to hound you—or, I _am,_ but it isn’t so much about you as it is about _him.”_ His eyes rose to glance across the park, and Clint looked back at Bruce. “We’re been through a lot together,” he went on in a quieter voice. “Graduations, funerals… He was the best man at my wedding, and I was supposed to be the best man at his, and it’s just…”

Clint twisted around to look back at Tony before the guy could continue his train of thought. “At his?” he repeated. “He—He was engaged?”

Tony peered down at him, looking puzzled. “Well, yeah,” he replied, like it was obvious. “Didn’t he—?” His eyes widened a little. “Oh. _Oh._ He hasn’t told you yet. Oh man. Um, pretend you didn’t hear that, or that you didn’t hear that from _me.”_

“I’m sure he would have told me soon,” Clint said, reassuring Tony like the other man had done to him hardly a minute ago. “We haven’t really talked about exes yet.” He peered cautiously back across the playground before looking at Tony again. “So, he’s not divorced?”

“No,” Tony answered after a beat of hesitation. “No, they were in the planning stage of the wedding when she got pregnant, and…yeah.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “That is definitely not my story to tell, and don’t you _dare_ let him know that I told you.”

Clint gave a grin. “Secret’s safe with me, man,” he replied.

“What secret?” 

Clint and Tony glanced up in time to see Chrissie come to a stop in front of them. Behind her, Bruce was coming over at a much more reasonable speed with Pepper and Sammie. 

Tony grinned and reached out to ruffle the little girl’s hair, but Chrissie easily dodged the move. “I was just telling Clint here some of the _really_ good stories about your dad,” he answered as Chrissie sat down to start petting Lucky, “like the time when we were in grad school and he blew up the lab.”

“You blew up a lab?” Clint asked Bruce as the trio approached.

Bruce let out a sigh and let his head fall forward. “That was _one time,”_ he replied, like he had had this conversation countless other times before. “Never mind the _dozens_ of times you’ve done the same thing,” he argued, looking pointedly at Tony.

Tony shrugged and grinned, undeterred. “Mine weren’t nearly as impressive as yours, though. _Mine_ didn’t require a full evacuation of the building.”

Chrissie twisted around to look wide-eyed at her father. “You blew up a building?” she asked, equal parts intrigued and horrified.

“No, I didn’t blow up a building,” Bruce replied in reassuring tones for his daughter. “There wasn’t even that much damage. They just wanted to make sure nothing could hurt people, so they made sure everyone got outside to make sure the building was safe.”

Looking relieved, Chrissie went back to petting Lucky.

Clint’s eyes remained on Bruce. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?” he asked with uncertainty. 

“Me? No,” Bruce replied with a small, dismissive wave of his hand. On the bench, Tony snorted. “Erm, not really,” Bruce amended sheepishly. “Just a sprained wrist and some cuts and burns. Artificial stuff. And the paper I got out of it was published, so it was worth it in the end.”

As Bruce sat down on the bench on the other side of Clint, close enough that his leg brushed against Clint’s arm, Tony sighed dreamily. “That was an _amazing_ study. Well worth it in the end.”

While Sammie joined Chrissie on the grass to pet the dog, Pepper sat down on the bench in the space between Clint and her husband. Pepper reached over and patted Clint’s shoulder. “Danger comes with being a scientist, or so I’m told,” she told him in consoling tones. 

On his other side, Bruce lightly pressed his leg against Clint. “Don’t worry, though,” he added. “I haven’t had a lab explosion in a very long time.”

“But you share a lab with him,” Pepper countered, jerking a thumb back at Tony.

Bruce made a thoughtful noise as Tony released a squawk of indignation.

As the conversation dissolved into more tales, Clint settled against Bruce’s leg. He smiled peacefully as Bruce’s hand started to fiddle lightly with his hair, and as they all shared a laugh, he leaned a little more into the affectionate points of contact. 

And as Tony started going on with a new story, Clint felt his mind drifting back to what he had learned about Bruce’s previous engagement. Clint wasn’t sure when the right time in a relationship was to bring up prior ones, but having the knowledge he had now made him feel a little intimidated. Bruce was going to be _married;_ that’s about as serious as a relationship could get. It was unnerving to be the person after something like that, something that _big._

But as he and Bruce settled easily against one another to listen to another story, Clint felt hopeful. This wasn’t just a fling— _neither_ of them wanted that. It had the potential to grow into something more serious. It was still early on yet; they could work up to those kinds of discussions.

For now, he had friendly conversation, warm laughter, and affectionate touches. Now was good.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

One Thursday morning during their coffee date, Bruce’s cellphone rang.

It was just mid-way through October. The park they were sitting in was a tableau of multicolored leaves, both on the trees and littering the walkways. Students were taking advantage of what was likely to be the last few days of pleasant outdoor weather before fall began to make way for winter. 

Clint and Bruce decided to take advantage of the nice weather as well. They were seated on one of the park benches lining the walkway, watching students play Frisbee while making idle conversation about anything and everything. They weren’t curled up together like they had been at the end of that date at Bruce’s house (being out in public and all), but they were still close enough for their knees to bump and their shoulders to lightly touch one another. 

The sound of Bruce’s cellphone cut off Clint mid-sentence.

“Sorry,” Bruce apologized as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He squinted at the screen without his glasses.

Clint leaned over so he could see the display. “Says it’s a call from someone named Reed?”

Bruce grinned over at him. “I can read my phone, thank you. My eyes aren’t that bad.”

With a shrug, Clint grinned back and threw an arm across the back of the bench (and by extension Bruce’s shoulders). “Hey, I don’t know how bad your eyes are,” he pointed out. He nodded down at the ringing phone. “You gonna answer that?”

Bruce glanced back down at his phone, but before he could make a decision, the ringing stopped. They both looked at the phone for another moment before Bruce smiled over at Clint. “If it’s important, he’ll call back. What were you saying?”

Clint drew a breath to go on with his story, but the ringing started back up. As Bruce frowned back down at his phone, Clint gave Bruce’s shoulder a squeeze. “Guess it’s important. Go on.”

“Knowing Reed, it’ll be quick,” Bruce said apologetically as he answered the call.

Not wanting to eavesdrop, Clint pulled out his own phone and started browsing through his messages. There was one new text message waiting to be read, but before he could open it, he felt Bruce go tense.

“Reed, I can’t,” Bruce was saying as Clint tuned back in to the phone call. When Clint glanced over, there was a serious look on Bruce’s face, growing more frustrated as the caller went on. “Well, for starters, it’s _tomorrow._ One day’s notice is way too short and—” He paused. “Reed, I don’t have anything prepared for something like that, but that’s not the point! You _know_ I’d need to find a babysitter, and it’s just too short notice, and—”

Bruce paused when Clint tapped his arm and glanced over at him in confusion.

Clint raised his eyebrows and pointed at himself.

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? No, I—Hang on a second, Reed.” He put his hand over the receiver.

“What’s going on tomorrow?” Clint asked softly.

Bruce’s eyes went briefly to his phone. “There’s a conference being hosted here tomorrow night,” he explained as he met Clint’s eyes again, “and one of the speakers had to back out, and Reed’s wanting me to fill in.”

“Conferences are a pretty big deal, right?” Clint asked. “You should go; I can watch Chrissie.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Bruce protested. 

“I’m offering,” Clint pressed gently with a smile. “C’mon, this would be good for you. When was the last time you’ve done something like this?”

Hesitating for a moment, Bruce glanced down in thought. “It’s…been a few years,” he admitted before he looked back at Clint. “But we had plans tomorrow night.”

“They were just to hang out at your place,” Clint pointed out. Bruce hadn’t been able to find a babysitter for Chrissie, so they were just going to spend the evening together at Bruce’s house instead of out on the town. “So Chrissie and I will get a head start while you’re doing your science talk, and then you can join us after.” He smiled. “Everybody wins.”

Clearly still hesitating, Bruce didn’t answer.

Clint lightly jostled him with the arm still around Bruce’s shoulders. “If you really don’t want to, that’s fine,” he went on, “but if the issue is just finding someone to watch Chrissie, I’d be happy to.”

Bruce stared at him for another moment. “You’re… you’re sure?” 

Clint grinned in reassurance. “Absolutely. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well, if you’re absolutely certain,” Bruce said, trailing off as he looked at his phone again.

“I am,” Clint replied as he settled back against the bench, the very picture of easy certainty.

The ease of his posture vanished instantly when Bruce suddenly leaned in and pressed a warm kiss of gratitude against his lips. He drew in a breath through his nose in surprise, but in the next second he practically melted against the bench.

Bruce pulled back with a smile and affectionate eyes. “You’re the best,” he murmured just for Clint to hear.

As Bruce put the phone back against his ear, Clint only smiled happily up at the multicolored leaves overhead. “Yeah…” he sighed blissfully, hardly listening to the renewed phone conversation. 

Babysitting was something he could handle. He practically did it with every archery lesson, and they were given potentially dangerous weapons. A few hours with Chrissie wouldn’t be an issue.

Though it would be his first time alone with her, without Bruce there. 

And come to think of it, his young students always had their parents nearby, always watching. 

As he listened to Bruce confirm that he could be a speaker at tomorrow’s conference, Clint realized he had never actually babysat anyone in his entire life.

This could possibly be an issue.

==

When Clint pulled into the parking lot of the conference center the following day, he found Bruce already standing next to his own parked vehicle. Clint had just gotten off of work and literally drove straight there, so he was still dressed in his workout clothes. Thankfully, he had thought ahead and had a bag of other clothes he could change into later.

Bruce, on the other hand, was dressed in a dark suit with his tie hanging loosely from his neck and the top button or two undone. His hands were in his pockets and his hair was only slightly more tame than usual, but a few curls blew in the early evening breezes.

He looked absolutely _delectable._

Clint had to tear his eyes away so he could actually park his car without crashing into something.

He got out of his car and was immediately greeted with one of Bruce’s warm little smiles. 

Something fluttered in his core. “Hey,” Clint said as he closed his door, trying not to get caught up in how good Bruce looked right now, never mind his thoughts of ravishing him. The skin along his neck down to where the shirt was opened was just begging for his attention.

Bruce’s smile widened. “Hey,” he replied as he stepped closer to Clint. “Thank you again for doing this.”

Clint accepted a little peck of a kiss with a happy hum. “It’s no problem.”

Bruce handed Clint his keys. “I figure it’d just be easier to swap cars instead of wrestling with a car seat. This one’s the house key—I have a spare in my bag. Also, here.”

When Bruce pulled out forty dollars, Clint immediately took a step back. “You, uh, don’t need to pay me for this, Bruce,” he protested awkwardly.

“It’s for dinner,” Bruce explained. “Order yourselves something and save some for me.”

“I can pay for dinner,” Clint pointed out, still not taking the money.

“You paid last time,” Bruce returned without a beat of hesitation. When Clint still didn’t take the proffered bills, Bruce folded up the money and slipped it into Clint’s pocket.

The move came as a complete surprise. Clint was trying so hard to keep his face from flaring (and _other_ reactions from happening, good god, Bruce had just reached for his _gym shorts),_ that he didn’t even try to grab the money from his pocket and return it.

Bruce took advantage of Clint’s stunned silence and went on. “The daycare on campus is at the address I texted to you earlier. The workers know to expect you; you’ll just need to show ID so they can verify.” He glanced off in thought, no doubt running through his mental checklist for anything he had missed. “Other than getting her dinner, I think you two will keep each other entertained. There are plenty of movies you both can watch, and I think Chrissie showed you where the board games are. I should be back by eight, but in case I’m not, bedtime’s at eight-fifteen.”

“Okay,” Clint said with a nod as he came back to himself, trying not to sound overwhelmed.

Bruce must have heard the nerves in his voice, for he smiled in reassurance. “If you need me for anything, I’ll have my phone on me at all times. I’ll come straight there if you need me to.”

With another nod, Clint smiled. “We’ll be fine,” he replied, feeling like it was almost the truth.

Another gorgeous little smile touched Bruce’s lips. “I know you will be,” he said. He caught one of Clint’s hands in his. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

Clint pulled Bruce’s hand to his lips and placed a light kiss on his knuckles. “Stop thanking me,” he told him softly. “It’ll be nice to spend some quality time with her.” He grinned a little. “No matter how often it seems like I see her, I still don’t know all that much about her.”

“Be prepared for ponies,” Bruce warned with a serious face and mischievous eyes, and Clint laughed. “I know she’s excited to spend some time with you,” he added a moment later. He checked his watch on his wrist. “It’s almost time for her to be picked up,” he said before looking at Clint. His eyes were alight with gentle care and affection, and Clint couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “You two have a good time together, and I’ll be home hopefully around eight.”

“Good luck with your lecture,” Clint offered. “You nervous?”

“A little,” Bruce admitted quietly as he looked uneasily back toward the conference center. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Hey.” Clint gave him a bright smile and lightly squeezed the hand in his, drawing Bruce’s eyes back to him. “You’ll do great, and then you can tell me all about it when you get back.”

“I will,” Bruce promised with another smile.

They shared a brief parting kiss, and Clint handed Bruce the keys to his car. Clint watched Bruce head toward the building for a moment before he slipped into Bruce’s car. He had a kid to go pick up.

It was a short drive to the daycare, and with it being a Friday evening, the parking wasn’t too terrible. He managed to park Bruce’s car with probably too much caution—he didn’t want to mess _anything_ about this up—and got out.

The daycare wasn’t as brightly decorated as the preschool on the other side of the park, but there were still blocky and colorful letters on the sign that gave it away. Still, Clint double-checked the address one more time before he walked up the steps and into the building.

The inside was much more colorful. He could hear children’s laughter coming from down the hall, and there were little pieces of arts and crafts hanging around in the lobby area and behind the main desk.

Also behind the main desk was a young woman—probably a college student. Clint approached the desk. “Hi,” he said a little awkwardly. “I’m, uh, here to pick up Chrissie Banner.”

“Can I see your ID?” the worker asked.

Clint produced his driver’s license, and after a brief look, the employee nodded. “Dr. Banner said you’d be picking her up today,” she said with a smile as she handed the license back. She pointed to the sign-out sheet on the desktop. “If I can just get you to sign here, then we can go back and get Chrissie.”

After signing his name, he and the worker wandered down the hall to where the children were. There was maybe a group of twelve kids in the room, and Clint quickly found Chrissie at one of the tables with another little girl and a boy. They were all drawing together.

“Chrissie,” the worker called, and Bruce’s daughter looked up.

As soon as she spotted Clint, Chrissie’s face instantly morphed into the very picture of joy. “Clint!” she shouted in excitement, and Clint couldn’t help but smile. Chrissie abandoned her friends with a happy wave and rushed over to Clint. He knelt down to accept her ecstatic embrace.

“Hey kiddo,” he greeted her. There was a warmth in his chest that only grew warmer when he felt Chrissie’s smile widen against his neck. “Have a good day?”

“Yeah!” Chrissie replied eagerly as she drew back. “We read this really cool book in school, and then I drew a picture!” She leaned in a little and added in a secretive whisper “I’m going to give it to Daddy.”

Clint grinned. “I bet he’ll love it,” he replied in a similarly low voice. “Ready to go?”

As another bright smile crossed her face, Chrissie pulled him along to where her bag and jacket were. Clint helped the little girl put her jacket on, and then they both waved goodbye to the young woman behind the front desk. 

Without missing a beat, Chrissie slipped her hand into Clint’s before they even made it to the sidewalk. The motion made Clint smile to himself, and he mused how trusting kids could really be. He kept his speed slow to accommodate for the child’s much shorter legs and led them to where he had parked Bruce’s vehicle.

“Why do you have Daddy’s car?” Chrissie asked when they reached it.

Clint peered down momentarily at her. “He let me borrow it for the night,” he explained as he unlocked the back door. “Mine doesn’t have a special seat for you. We traded, so he has mine.”

“Oh,” Chrissie said. She let Clint help her into her car seat and promptly looked around the interior of the car. “Where’s Lucky?”

As Clint figured out the buckles, he answered. “Lucky’s watching my apartment. He’s keeping it safe.”

“Oh,” the girl said again, slumping a little in her seat.

Once she was properly buckled in, Clint slipped into the driver’s seat and started the car. He peeked in the rearview mirror at Chrissie and found her staring out the window, looking bored.

“So,” Clint began as he pulled the car onto the street, eager to break the silence, “what do you want for dinner? We can go somewhere, or we can order something and have it delivered.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror again. “Did you want to watch something while we eat?”

“We can _do_ that?” Chrissie asked, eyes shooting away from the window and to the rearview mirror in awe.

For a second, Clint panicked internally. He didn’t want to introduce something to Chrissie that Bruce would disapprove of. He hadn’t even thought it was all that surprising—it was the norm for him. It had been for a long time.

A beat later, he took a breath. “Just this once,” he said at last. They reached a stoplight and Clint twisted around to give her a secretive smile. “Think of it as a treat, so start thinking of a _really_ good movie we can watch together while we eat.”

Chrissie instantly beamed and nodded.

==

Bruce had given Clint pretty much free reign of the house and had said that he could use the shower, so Clint took what was probably the fastest shower he had ever taken in his entire life. He didn’t want to leave Chrissie alone for too long, just in case something went wrong.

He toweled off at light speed and quickly got dressed. He was in the middle of pulling his hoodie over his head as he stepped out of the bathroom. 

He hadn’t wanted to invade Bruce’s privacy by using the shower in the master bedroom, even though Bruce had told him it was fine. And he hadn’t thought to bring along his own shampoo from his place, so now he smelled like the fairy berry strawberry shampoo that Chrissie likely used.

He felt a little weird.

The house was quiet when he stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway, but he found Chrissie’s bedroom door standing open. He peeked in to find her lying on her stomach on the floor, quietly playing with some of her toys.

When he knocked lightly on the doorframe, Chrissie looked up and immediately started to giggle. “Your hair looks silly,” she said with a bright smile.

Clint grinned and let his hand run through his damp hair, no doubt making it stand in several other different directions. “How’s that?” he asked as she started laughing harder. “Better?”

“No,” Chrissie said, still laughing as she got up. She scurried past Clint and across the hall into the bathroom Clint had just showered in. She reappeared with a brush and smiled up at him. “I can fix it,” she offered.

Not sure what he was getting himself into, Clint smiled and knelt down. “Alright then,” he said, ducking his head.

Chrissie was surprisingly gentle with the brush, much to Clint’s relief. She started humming to herself as she brushed his hair daintily, taking her time.

When her hands landed on his chin, he obligingly let her reposition his head however she saw fit. He had to bite back a grin as she scrutinized his hair. She moved his head this way and that before she broke out into a triumphant grin. “All done!”

“Can I go see?” Clint asked with a growing smile.

Chrissie nodded, so he got to his feet and wandered back into the bathroom to look in the mirror.

Clint tried really hard to keep his snort of laughter from escaping. She had obviously tried to replicate how he normally styled his hair, so it really could have been a lot worse. Still, it looked like he was trying so hard for a mohawk with the short hair he had, with his hair sticking up in a crooked line along his scalp.

After another moment of just reveling in his hair, he finally gave a nod of approval. “Perfect,” he said to Chrissie, who was lingering in the doorway.

Her face lit up with a happy grin, and Clint felt himself smile back.

They wandered out of the bathroom and returned to Chrissie’s room. “Have you thought about what you’d like for dinner?” Clint asked, looking around the room again. Aside from the different toys on the floor, it looked identical to how it looked the last time he was here.

“Pizza!” Chrissie answered cheerfully. Her face quickly took on an expression of caution. “Do you like pizza?” she asked.

Clint immediately grinned. “Kid, I _love_ pizza,” he responded, and Chrissie’s smile instantly came back. “What kind do you like? And what kind does your dad like?”

“Cheese,” she replied. “Daddy likes the one with veggies on it, but I think it’s gross.”

“Y’know, I’m not sure I’ve tried veggie pizza before,” Clint mused aloud. “I’m going to go ahead and order. I’ll be just down the hall,” he told her as he started to wander out of the girl’s room. 

He walked down the hall to the living room, where he had left his bag when they had walked through the front door, and dug out his phone.

The house was quiet as he sat down on the sofa and flipped through his contacts for the pizza place he had saved into his phone. Once he had the information pulled up, he paused and took in the room he was sitting in. It wasn’t like the last time when he had been in here by himself, with Bruce just down the hall reading to his kid. Sunlight filtered through the room’s large window, casting the room in this homey and familial feeling.

Clint suddenly felt like he didn’t belong here.

Blinking out of that thought, Clint shook off the feeling and focused on his phone again. He pushed dial and pressed the phone to his ear. He had a child to feed.

As he was ordering—one small cheese pizza and one large half-veggie and half-pepperoni—Chrissie wandered into the room. She had a few toys in her arms, along with a coloring book and a box of crayons.

Clint smiled when she dumped everything onto the coffee table in front of Clint. While he gave the address, Chrissie carefully lined her toys up along the surface of the table before upending her box of crayons. She flipped through her book until she found a fresh page.

The person on the other end of the phone gave Clint the total and the call ended. “Pizza should be here in about half an hour,” Clint reported, slipping his phone back into his jeans’ pocket.

“Okay,” Chrissie replied. She was focused on her coloring, her nose scrunched slightly, so her answer sounded a little distracted. When she finished with that crayon, she grinned up at Clint. “Wanna color with me?”

“Sure,” Clint said. He abandoned his spot on the sofa to sit down on the carpet with Chrissie. She promptly grinned again before rushing back to her room to probably grab another coloring book.

Clint took the moment to appreciate her toys. There was a little yellow pony with nicely brushed hair, a little robot toy, and a Barbie.

“Here you go,” Chrissie said as she scurried back into the room with another coloring book in hand. She sat down next to Clint and laid the book out on the table in front of him. “This one was a present from Aunt Jenny,” she explained. She flipped open the book. “We did some together, but there are still lots that don’t have color.”

“Did you want to color some together now?” Clint asked.

Chrissie smiled brightly at that and flipped to one of the pages missing color. The outlines were from one of the Disney princess movies, though Clint wasn’t entirely sure which one. The outlines depicted a ballroom type of scene. “Which movie is this from?” he asked.

_“Sleeping Beauty,”_ Chrissie answered in a knowledgeable tone. She pointed to the page. “He just woke her up with a kiss, and then they danced, and the fairies kept changing her dress pink and blue.” She frowned. “They could’ve changed her dress into a different color, but it always just pink or blue. They should’ve turned it purple, or a whole _bunch_ of colors! That would’ve been so pretty!”

“Like a tie-dye dress?” Clint asked with a growing smile. 

Chrissie glanced over at him, still frowning. “What’s a tie-dye?”

Clint immediately grinned and reached for his phone. “Oh ho,” he chuckled knowingly as he pulled up a search bar. _“This,”_ he said, setting his phone down between them as a grid of images appeared on his phone, “is tie-dye.”

He watched Chrissie’s eyes light up as she stared down at the different images. “Look at all the colors,” she breathed in reverence. “It’s so—” She let out a squeak of excitement, and Clint promptly grinned. “That one’s a _rainbow!_ It’s so _pretty!”_

“Tie-dye’s pretty cool,” Clint agreed, watching as she scrolled through the other images. “I think it’s actually pretty easy to do, too.”

“We can _make_ tie-dye?!” Chrissie asked eagerly, head whipping up to stare at Clint.

“With a certain kit and some t-shirts, I think so,” Clint replied, smiling in the face of her excitement. “We can ask your dad if we can do something like that sometime.”

“Can we ask him when he gets home?!” she asked, practically bouncing in anticipation.

“Sure,” Clint answered. He nodded toward the open page of the coloring book. “So, should Sleeping Beauty have a tie-dye dress?”

“Yes,” Chrissie responded instantly with heartfelt conviction, making Clint laugh.

They were still coloring in her dress with a spiral of different crayon colors when the doorbell rang some twenty minutes later.

Clint got to his feet and glanced down at Chrissie. “Have you thought of a movie we can watch together?” he asked, reaching into his pocket for the folded dollar bills Bruce had slipped there earlier in the evening. 

Chrissie nodded and abandoned the coffee table to run to the bookcase with movies. As she started browsing, Clint moved to the front door to pay for dinner.

On his way back past the living room with the two pizza boxes, he glanced in to see that Chrissie was still looking for the movie, so he wandered by without bothering her and made his way to the kitchen. He set down the pizza boxes and then laid out Bruce’s change. 

“Okay,” Clint murmured to himself. “Food: check. Plates…” He glanced around at the different cabinets, which told him nothing.

Chrissie wandered into the room as he was opening the third set of cabinets, which held glasses. Well, he did need some of those, so he pulled down two. “Hey,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the little girl, “you know where the plates are?”

“Um…” Chrissie scrutinized the different cabinets, clearly unsure.

Clint gave her another moment before he moved on to the next one. “A-ha!” He pulled out two plates and grinned victoriously down at the girl. “Now we don’t have to resort to eating off of napkins.”

As Chrissie bit back a smile, Clint set down the plates. “How about the forks and spoons and stuff?” he asked. “You like your food cut up, right?”

Chrissie hummed and nodded. She walked up to one of the drawers and pulled it open, revealing the eating utensils. “Here you go,” she said, smiling up at Clint.

Before long, Clint had a slice of cheese pizza cut into bite-sized pieces. He had a slice of pepperoni and a thin slice of the veggie kind, just to see how it would taste. He carried both plates into the living room, making sure to spread a few paper towels out on the coffee table to ensure that nothing got messy. While Chrissie cleared away the crayons and coloring books, Clint returned to the dining room to grab the little booster seat from one of the chairs so Chrissie wouldn’t have to stay on her knees to eat at the coffee table. 

Once he had their drinks—apple juice and water respectively—Clint sat down on the sofa. “So, what movie did you pick?” 

Chrissie grinned and picked up the DVD box sitting on the edge of the table. “This is a good one,” she said as she handed over the box.

Clint accepted the DVD from the child and glanced at the title, and immediately grinned. “ _Brave_?” he read, glancing back down at her.

Beaming up at him, she nodded. “She uses bows and arrows, like you!” she explained, pointing to the girl with wild red hair on the cover art. “Have you seen it before?”

“I haven’t,” he replied, “but Miss Lewis from gymnastics class has told me I should.”

A moment later, Clint got the movie started. Instead of sitting back down on the sofa, he sat down next to Chrissie on the floor. She grinned over at him, and he smiled back before they settled in to enjoy their pizza and the movie together.

==

The television screen faded to black, and the credit began to roll. Curled up against Clint’s side, Chrissie sighed happily. “I like that movie,” she said over the ending credit’s music. She tipped her head back and glanced up at Clint. “Did you like it?”

“I did,” Clint replied, peering down at where the little girl was snuggled against him. 

After they had finished eating, they had settled together on the sofa. During one of the scarier parts of the film, Chrissie had hid her face against his side and then had never really scooted away. 

To be honest, Clint hadn’t minded in the least. 

He was brought out of his thoughts when Chrissie spoke again. “I’m glad she and her mommy are happy again,” she said, looking at the screen again. “Now they can ride ponies together.”

There was something off about her tone that made Clint glance back down at her. She was still staring at the screen, but there was a thoughtful expression on her face. 

He almost wanted to ask if she was alright, but he hesitated. They had bonded a little during their evening together, but he wasn’t sure if they had gotten to the level where he was qualified in handling whatever it was that was causing her some form of distress.

But then Chrissie peeked up at him, curiously, and caught him looking at her. She started toying with her fingers in a way that instantly reminded Clint of Bruce, but she didn’t look away.

“Is that what having a mommy is really like?” Chrissie asked.

He _definitely_ wasn’t qualified for this.

While Clint started to silently panic, Chrissie glanced back at the screen with this happy little smile on her face. “Not the bear part, but getting to ride around on ponies together?”

“U-Um…” Clint stammered. He had _no_ idea what Bruce had told her, and Clint knew that he didn’t have the whole story, but despite all of that, you couldn’t just tell a child that they were missing their mother because she hadn’t been ready to become a parent, and that she had left her father right after she had been born, and—

Yeah. _Not_ something you tell a child.

When Chrissie looked back up at him, waiting for an answer with this heartbreakingly innocent look on her little face, Clint swallowed and returned his focus to the television screen. “Well,” he began awkwardly, “it’s not something I ever did with my mom, but I guess some do that with their kids. I, uh…I don’t remember a whole lot about my mom.”

“Me neither,” Chrissie replied conversationally, unaware of Clint’s turmoil. “Daddy says it’s okay, though. Families that look different aren’t bad. There’s a boy at school who lives with his mommy and then visits his daddy on the weekends, and then there’s a girl with _two_ mommies and daddies.” She shrugged a little and glanced off. “I just… When I go to Sammie’s house and see her with her mommy, I wonder what it’d be like to have a mommy.”

She paused for a moment and looked back at the television screen as the credits ended and the title screen reappeared. A sudden smile crossed her face. “I bet we’d ride ponies together,” she said, sounding absolutely sure. “Daddy and Aunt Jenny did that with her mommy.”

“Really?” Clint asked, latching onto her comment and hoping it would take them away from their awkward conversation.

Chrissie grinned at him before sliding down from the couch. She dashed to the bookshelf, stood on her tippy-toes, and retrieved what looked like a photo album. She hefted the heavy tome across the room and handed it to Clint. After she climbed back onto the couch, she opened the front cover. 

It was indeed a photo album. The first picture was an image of Bruce standing in front of this house with a tiny infant Chrissie in his arms. There was a realty sign in the yard with a bright red _sold_ sticker. It must have been when Bruce bought the house.

He hardly had a moment more to study the photograph before Chrissie started flipping through the pages. “Aunt Jenny showed me this when she came down for the gymnastics show,” she said eagerly, flipping past images that Clint wanted to stop and look at.

She got to where she wanted to be and pointed. “There!” she said eagerly. “Aunt Jenny said her mommy had taken her and Daddy pony riding! There’s Aunt Jenny, and there’s Daddy!”

Clint leaned in to get a closer look at the dated photograph. Despite only having met Bruce’s cousin Jennifer once, he could tell that she was the little girl in the photo from the same mischievous grin on her face. She was maybe eight in the picture.

Then Clint’s eyes focused in on the boy in the photograph. He could tell he was Bruce just from his hair, this thick and gorgeously dark brown that even the aged film couldn’t dim. Bruce was maybe eleven or twelve in the image, at that awkward age just before his teens. He had glasses on his face, big clunky things that probably hadn’t done him any favors with bullies in school. His limbs were gangly, but Clint was far more focused on his face than anything else.

For starters, he wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t frowning, and didn’t appear to be having an awful time, but in the face of Jennifer’s bright grin, Bruce’s lack of one stood out. He just looked…indifferent. Apathetic, almost.

It made something like concern surge through Clint at the sight, but he was snapped from his thoughts when Chrissie abruptly turned the page and pointed to another picture. “That’s Daddy, too,” she said, snuggling up against Clint’s side again and seemingly oblivious to Clint’s internal confusion.

This picture was a happier one, and Clint felt himself smile. The photograph showcased a maybe-thirteen year old Bruce at what must have been a science fair. There were lab goggles pushed up into his hairline, making his hair look wild, and a wide grin on his face.

Chrissie grinned at the picture. “Aunt Jenny says Daddy was a huge dork,” she disclosed. “Daddy says he still is.”

“Nothing wrong with being dorky,” Clint replied with a grin of his own. “Dorky can definitely be cute.”

Chrissie promptly started giggling. “Do you think Daddy is _cute?”_ she asked, drawing out the word in glee.

Feeling a mild heat go to his cheeks, Clint grinned down at the little girl. “I think your dad is _super_ cute,” he answered, and laughed when Chrissie giggled again. He flipped back to the beginning of the album. “See?” he said, pointing to the picture of Bruce and a very young Chrissie in front of their house. “Look at how cute he is.”

“ _Super_ cute,” Chrissie said, mimicking Clint with a little laugh.

They started going through the photo album page by page after that. Most of the pictures were of Chrissie, but there were a few pages devoted to Bruce’s life when he was younger. Clint grinned at a picture of Bruce and Tony together from probably over ten years ago. Alternatively, he felt a warm smile cross his face whenever they came across a picture of Bruce as a boy, as sparse as they were.

He glanced away from the album when Chrissie yawned and cuddled closer to him. “Getting tired?” he asked, pulling his phone out to check the time. It was getting close to eight o’clock.

“No,” Chrissie answered with quiet stubbornness even as her eyes slipped shut.

The sight made Clint smile to himself. “Alright,” he replied in a sing-song voice. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

Chrissie only hummed in response, not bothering to open her eyes.

Clint watched her for a moment before he continued on with the album, but he felt distracted. He had never imagined seeing himself in this place in his life—sitting in his boyfriend’s house with his boyfriend’s child snuggled up against him, falling peacefully asleep. The amount of trust that was being shown to him made something in his chest tighten. Bruce had entrusted Chrissie’s care to him for the evening, and Chrissie had offered the kind of trust most children didn’t afford to practical strangers—or, at least, the kind of trust Clint didn’t afford to most adults when he had been a kid.

He wasn’t sure if he deserved that amount of trust, but just the thought of these two people giving him that kind of chance… 

It was scary and intimidating on some levels, but on even more, it made his heart soar.

The sound of the front door opening jarred him from his drifting thoughts. Clint quickly blinked back to the present, suddenly not sure how long he had been staring at the same photograph of a twenty-something year old Bruce with nothing but sky in the background. He looked up from the album with a start, peering at the opening in the living room and then down at where Chrissie was still asleep against his side.

The door closed and then Bruce stepped into the opening of the living room. His hair was no longer neatly brushed but adorably ruffled, like he had been running his fingers through the curls all evening. The dark tie was hanging loose around his neck again, and his jacket was draped over his arm with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

He looked tired, but a warm smile lit up his face when he spotted Clint. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” Clint replied as he felt himself smile involuntarily. “How’d it go?”

Bruce nodded a little and pulled his bag off his shoulder. “It went really…” He paused to look off in thought before he met Clint’s eyes again. “…really well, actually,” he finally admitted. 

He stepped into the living room and set his bag and jacket down on the back of an armchair before approaching the sofa Clint was sitting on. Another soft smile crossed his face as he took in the scene. “Looks like you’ve had a relaxing evening,” he said contently.

Clint knew how it probably looked. He gazed down at Chrissie again and felt a smile begin to tug at his lips. “Yeah,” he said in a soft voice, sounding a little awed even to himself. “Yeah, we had a good night.”

“I’m glad,” Bruce replied. Careful to avoid jostling anyone, Bruce sat down on Chrissie’s other side and overlooked the room. His eyes danced over the still-playing menu screen of the movie, to the empty glasses sitting on napkins, and then to the toys and crayons on the coffee table. He eyed the photo album for a moment before moving on. “Thank you so much for doing this, Clint,” he said quietly as his eyes drifted to Chrissie.

Clint smiled and laid his arm across the back of the couch to let his fingers play with the curls at the back of Bruce’s neck. “We had fun,” he replied. “It was definitely no trouble.”

“I knew you two would get along great,” Bruce mused, leaning a little into Clint’s touch. 

They stayed like that for a lingering few minutes, the three of them settled into the quiet evening. It was peaceful; it had been pretty peaceful with just him and Chrissie, but with Bruce, that nervous energy that had come with being responsible for a four year old had retreated. 

The moment was broken when Bruce drew a breath and leaned forward, causing Clint’s fingers to slip away from his hair. “Let me get her to bed really quick,” Bruce said in a low voice. “I’ll be right back.”

As Bruce masterfully maneuvered Chrissie into his arms, all without waking her up, Clint sat up a little. “There’s pizza in the kitchen for you, too,” he said. 

“Good, I’m starving,” Bruce said reverently. Once he had Chrissie securely cradled in his arms, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss against Clint’s lips. “Be right back,” he whispered against Clint’s mouth.

With a parting kiss, Bruce straightened up and carried his sleeping daughter out of the room and down the hall.

Clint stayed where he was for a few moments, swept up in the lingering warmth of the kiss. A minute passed in silence before he finally got up and headed to the kitchen. He grabbed two slices of the veggie pizza and slipped them onto a plate before popping them into the microwave to reheat.

While the food heated up, he poured glasses of water for Bruce and himself before he returned to the living room. He started to put Chrissie’s crayons away, since they hadn’t gotten around to it earlier in the evening. 

By the time Bruce reappeared with the plate of warm pizza and glass of water, Clint was back on the sofa and perusing the photo album. He glanced over as Bruce sat down next to him on the couch, settled nice and close next to him.

“How did you know veggie was my favorite?” Bruce asked as he placed his glass carefully down on a napkin lying on the coffee table. 

Clint smiled and leaned a little into Bruce’s space to close the small gap that Bruce had left between them. “Chrissie let me know,” he answered as he threw an arm around Bruce’s shoulders and got comfy. “She also let me know that she thinks it’s gross,” he added with a smirk.

Bruce huffed a fond laugh. “At least she tried it once before coming to that conclusion,” he replied before taking a bite of his late dinner. As he chewed, he glanced down at the album in Clint’s lap. 

Clint returned his attention to the photos and found himself staring at the picture of a twenty-something Bruce that had distracted him earlier. “Where was this one taken?” he asked, pointing at the photo. 

“That was from my trip to India,” Bruce explained after he had swallowed his bite. “Jen found all of these rolls of undeveloped film when she helped me move here and demanded we get them developed.” He shrugged a little. “She really liked this one.”

“I do, too,” Clint replied. “It’s a nice shot of you.” He turned the page and found a spread of different photographs all depicting a very young Chrissie learning to walk.

Next to him, Bruce let out this soft, happy little noise at the sight of the pictures, and Clint felt his heart melt a little. “It feels like only yesterday,” Bruce murmured, his voice filled with nostalgia and warmth. “Jen was actually down when it happened and about pulled a muscle when she ran off to grab a camera.”

Clint peeked over at Bruce’s face and was nearly caught up in how gorgeous the man was, with his features softened with fond remembrance. It left him breathless every time he caught these little expressions on Bruce’s face, when he was faced with the amount of love he had for his little girl.

Not bothering to bite back his own little smile of fondness, Clint returned his attention to the album and turned the page. While Bruce took another bite of his pizza, Clint looked over the new pictures and immediately felt himself grin. “First Halloween?” he asked unnecessarily. The pictures showed Chrissie—maybe half a year old—sitting in a stroller and dressed as a pumpkin. Next to the stroller was Sammie, maybe two years old and dressed as an adorable robot. 

Bruce smiled at the photograph as he swallowed his pizza. “Sammie was old enough to start trick-or-treating, and Tony and Pepper insisted I bring Chrissie along,” he explained. 

“Y’know,” Clint began, “Halloween is just around the corner.”

“It sure is,” Bruce replied.

“What do you usually do? I mean, after trick-or-treating?” Clint asked, peering over at Bruce.

“Well,” Bruce said, looking off, “the past few years, I’ve been taking Chrissie and Sam trick-or-treating on my own. Tony and Pepper are far too easily recognized, and it takes away from Sam’s experience, so they’ve started doing a company Halloween party at their place. When the kids are finished, we usually just go to their house for the party.”

“Oh,” Clint said.

Bruce glanced over at him and gave him a small smile. “Company parties aren’t really my thing, though,” he admitted, leaning a little more into Clint’s space, “so if you wanted to do something after I drop the kids off…”

A smile started to tug on Clint’s lips. “Well, some of my buddies throw a party every year,” he said. “They’ve been wanting to meet you.”

The smile on Bruce’s face grew. “That sounds fun,” he replied. 

Clint immediately grinned. “Yeah?”

“Sure,” Bruce responded with a smile that made something in Clint flutter delightedly. “I’d like to meet more of your friends.”

Clint couldn’t help but reel Bruce in and press a happy kiss against the man’s cheek, prompting a startled laugh out of Bruce. “I promise to ask them to be on their best behavior,” he said, lips brushing tantalizingly against Bruce’s face.

“Should I be worried?” Bruce asked half-jokingly as he turned so their lips were closer but not quite touching.

“Nah, they’re just nosey,” Clint reassured him. “They’ve been like that for as long as I’ve known ‘em, but they’re a good group of folks. You’ll like them.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along,” Bruce replied. “Would you like to come along trick-or-treating with us?” 

The invitation caught Clint by surprise, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He smiled. “Yeah, if Chrissie and Sammie wouldn’t mind.”

“I know Chrissie won’t,” Bruce replied fondly, “and I think you won Sam over the other weekend. I think they’ll be thrilled for you to come along with us.” He paused for a moment to softly kiss him. “I know I would be,” he went on in a softer voice.

Clint felt himself smile against Bruce’s lips. “Well, when you put it like that,” he said, trailing off in favor of kissing Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, updates are going to be a little sporadic for a little bit. October is going to be insanely busy for me, and I'm going to become an aunt in November, so things are going to be a little hectic in my personal life for a little while. But rest assured, I am not abandoning this story in the least! Real life just needs to come first.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

“There,” Clint said with approval as he slung his prop bow over his back. He checked out his costume in the mirror in his bathroom before looking out to his room. “What do you think, Luck?” he asked, facing the doorway and spreading his arms out away from his body. 

Lucky’s head perked up at the sound of his name and looked at Clint for a moment before laying his head back down to go back to sleep.

Clint pouted at his dog. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, mutt,” he murmured under his breath before glancing at his reflection again, taking in his costume once more.

The kids had been ecstatic with Halloween fever this morning in Natasha’s gymnastics class, and his younger archery students were the same in the afternoon. Once he had finished packing everything up after class, he had traveled back to his apartment to begin preparing for his evening.

Clint wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to be, but the image in the mirror looked _good._ He had found this dark leather coat in a thrift store he and Natasha had scavenged through before work one morning. They had managed to add a few dark purple highlights together, and it looked _awesome._

Additionally, he had his archery wrist and finger guards to enhance to the look. He’d say he was some kind of assassin, or maybe a secret agent, but it was really up to interpretation. 

He snagged the six-pack of beer bottles from the fridge along with some Halloween cookies he had seen at the grocery store and headed out.

On his way down the stairs, he bumped into Simone and her sons. “Hey,” he said cheerfully before grinning down at the boys. “Happy Halloween.”

Both kids beamed up at him from under their Batman masks.

“You off to your party already?” Simone asked. “It’s barely five o’clock.”

“Nah, the party isn’t until later,” Clint answered as they went down the stairs as a group. “I’m actually going to tag along with my boyfriend as he takes his kid trick-or-treating.”

A look of surprise appeared on Simone’s face, but she smiled. “Never thought I’d see the day when you’d get involved with someone with children,” she said dotingly. 

“Why does everyone seem so surprised by that?” Clint asked, aiming to sound long-suffering but he knew he just sounded fond.

“You’re just a kid yourself, Clint,” Simone teased as they pushed through the front door and stepped outside. “But I do hope you enjoy yourself.”

“You too,” he replied before a wicked grin crossed his face. “Get _lots_ of candy,” he told the kids mischievously.

The kids immediately chorused twin cheers of excitement and the older one took off down the front steps, leaving the younger boy to wriggle eagerly in his mother’s arms. Simone shook her head at them all and went to go catch her son.

 

==

 

Once he had knocked on the door, Clint stood back to look at the Halloween decorations in Bruce’s front yard. There were two carved pumpkins next to his boots, both with goofy faces grinning up at him. There was fake spider web all over the bushes, and the garden was lined with little light-up skeletons that looked like they were dancing. 

The door opened, and Clint turned back around and—

“Pepper?” he immediately blurted.

Pepper Potts, standing in the open doorway with a _gorgeous_ dress on that highlighted the growing baby bump in her middle, smiled pleasantly at him and pulled the door fully open. “Hello, Clint,” she said sweetly, pulling him into a brief hug. “Come on in.”

He followed her into the house and was immediately attacked by two little human blurs.

“Clint’s here! Clint’s here!” Sammie and Chrissie cheered as they both hugged him fiercely.

“Hang on, hang on,” Clint said as he stumbled a little back, careful to dodge around Pepper, who was smiling and offering no help whatsoever. “How about some real hugs?” he asked as he set down his bag of groceries and went down to his knees.

Once he opened his arms, the girls were hugging him again. “Happy Halloween,” he wished them with a smile. “Let me see your costumes.”

With bright giggles, both kids withdrew and took a step back. He recognized both of them pretty much instantly and grinned. “ _Beauty and the Beast,_ and _Powerpuff Girls_ ,” he said, and Chrissie and Sammie both immediately smiled radiantly.

Chrissie was dressed as Belle from the Disney movie, in a poofy golden gown with her hair done in rolling curls. The dress was long-sleeved, which was probably a good thing since it was a little chilly outside. 

Sammie was dressed as one of the _Powerpuff Girls_ —Blossom, he thought. She had a straight long-sleeved dress of pink with a black stripe across her middle. She had white leggings on—also to combat the cold, no doubt—and little black Mary Janes on her feet and a bright red bow in her strawberry blonde hair.

Pepper scooted around the three of them and wandered deeper into the house. “I’m helping Bruce with his costume,” she said over her shoulder with a secretive smile. “Give me a few more minutes, then you can see him.”

“Can _I_ see Daddy yet?” Chrissie asked eagerly, bouncing in place.

“Not yet,” Pepper answered in a pseudo-firm tone, though the sternness of her voice was overshadowed by her warm little smile. “Sam, keep them distracted while I finish.”

Sammie gave her mother a quick salute that made Pepper snort a laugh. Clint had a sneaking suspicion that the motion was one Sammie had picked up from Tony.

As Pepper walked around the corner, both girls grabbed a hold of his hands and dragged him into the living room. Clint pulled the prop bow off of his back and sat down on the sofa with Chrissie and Sammie. 

“What’s your costume, Clint?” Chrissie asked as she scooted closer to his side, letting her fingers trail over part of Clint’s coat.

“I’m not really sure, to be honest,” Clint replied, glancing down at himself. 

“I think you look _cool_ ,” Sammie said, and Chrissie immediately nodded in agreement.

Clint grinned and leaned back against the cushion. “Well,” he began, looking at both of them again, “I think your costumes look _amazing._ You guys ready to show them off while we go get candy?”

Both girls instantly grinned. “Yeah!” Chrissie said in excitement. “We’re gonna have the _best_ costumes.”

Sammie leaned forward to look around Clint at her friend. “We have to go to the scary house this year,” she said urgently. 

The grin on Chrissie’s face suddenly dropped away. “No,” she whined. “That house is scary. I don’t _like_ scary.”

“But we have to!” Sammie pressed. “My daddy says that the scary houses always have the best candy.”

“But princesses don’t _do_ scary houses!” Chrissie protested.

“But you’re Belle!” Sammie exclaimed. “Belle went to the scary castle!” 

Chrissie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her friend. “I don’t want to go to the scary house,” she said firmly.

As Sammie drew a breath to likely keep arguing, Clint cut in. “What if you guys had someone to protect you?” he suggested. When they peered up at him, he gestured to the prop bow on the coffee table. “If anything jumps out to scare you, I can shoot ‘em down.”

“Really?” Chrissie asked, eyes lighting up.

“Yeah,” Clint answered with a casual shrug and an easy grin. “No problem.”

The smiles that appeared on the kids’ faces made something in Clint’s chest grow warmer. “That’s your costume!” Chrissie said happily. “You’re a bodyguard!”

“Or a superhero!” Sammie added enthusiastically.

Clint grinned. “Just call me The Amazing Hawkeye,” he proclaimed in a grand voice, “protector of princesses, defeater of scary houses, and liberator of candy.”

As both girls cheered “Hawkeye!” with wild applause, Clint laughed.

Once the cheering had died down, they all settled back against the sofa. The sky was darkening and soon it would be time to head out. They just needed Bruce.

“So,” Clint began after the lingering quiet, “what is your dad supposed to be for Halloween?” he asked Chrissie. Bruce hadn’t actually told him and had gotten this secretive look on his face every time Clint brought it up.

As Chrissie let out an excited giggle and clapped her hands over her mouth, Sammie crossed her arms and slouched back. “Chrissie won’t tell me,” she complained sullenly. 

“That’s ‘cause it’s a surprise,” Chrissie said in a delighted sing-song tone. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

They didn’t have to wait much longer. A few short moments later, Pepper appeared in the doorway with an excited smile on her face. “Are you guys ready?”

Clint couldn’t help but smile at the twin sounds of excitement that came from Sammie and Chrissie.

Pepper leaned against the doorframe and scrutinized the scene before her. “You guys don’t _sound_ ready,” she mused aloud, and both girls instantly jumped off of the sofa with bright laughs.

From the other side of the wall, Clint heard Bruce huff a laugh—and it should have probably concerned him by how warm and happy he felt just by hearing that. “Pepper, they’ll wear themselves out if you drag this out any longer,” Bruce said from behind the wall.

Pepper glanced over at where Bruce was hidden and smiled. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. She smiled down at Chrissie before she took a few steps back to give Bruce some space to appear. She raised her arms. “Ta da.”

Clint felt his eyes widen as The Beast stepped into the open doorway, looking sheepish. The wig on Bruce’s head was lighter than his natural hair color and way longer (with actual horns!), connecting to a thick beard on his chin. There were two fangs at the corners of his mouth, and when Clint looked closer, he saw that they were actually glued to his chin right where the beard began, giving the illusion that they were actually protruding from his mouth. The makeup on his nose and the rest of his face was perfect in highlighting the animalistic nature of the Disney character and was likely done with Pepper’s help.

And that was just Bruce’s face.

Clint had to swallow, because good _god,_ that blue suit looked _amazing_ on his body. It was made with the kind of fabric that shone in certain lighting, and right now, it was so sparkly-royal blue that Clint couldn’t help but stare.

Not to mention how much _tighter_ the costume was than all of Bruce’s normal clothes. He could actually see the contour of Bruce’s chest and torso in the fancy jacket. And the lines of his sides, down his thighs—

A high-pitched shriek of pure joy jolted Clint out of his spiraling thoughts and he watched Chrissie rush to her father. 

“Daddy, you look so _cool!”_ she shouted, bouncing in front of him in exulted delight.

Bruce instantly smiled and scooped her up so she could look more closely at the makeup on his face. “And look at you,” he said in the most adorably affectionate voice. “You’re beautiful,” he told her before pressing a kiss against her smiling face.

The image before him was ridiculously cute. It really should have been obvious what Bruce’s costume would be, but the surprise was well worth it, especially to see the pair of them together in costume like this. Clint felt a stupid grin cross his face as he reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

The shutter sound of his phone’s camera made Bruce and Chrissie glance over. A gorgeous blush touched Bruce’s cheeks, but Chrissie immediately grinned and threw out her arms, grinning widely for the camera. 

Clint laughed and obligingly took another photo. “You two look _great,”_ he said, getting to his feet. “I mean… _wow._ ”

Chrissie giggled happily, but it was the smile that crossed Bruce’s face that made something in Clint’s gut roil giddily.

Pepper glanced between them once before she smiled knowingly. “Alright, girls, let’s go get your trick-or-treating bags from downstairs before we do a group picture.”

Twin grins immediately flashed upon Sammie and Chrissie’s faces. Once Bruce had put his daughter back down, the girls took off around the corner and thundered through the kitchen to get to the basement with Pepper following after them at a much more sedate speed.

Now that they were alone, Clint strolled up to Bruce, eyes taking in everything about his boyfriend’s costume. He was enormously pleased to see Bruce doing the same to him.

They met each other halfway, hands reaching out to run reverent fingers over each other’s clothes. Clint’s hands immediately went to Bruce’s hips, feeling the soft fabric of the royal blue costume while Bruce’s own hands went to Clint’s arms, feeling the muscles beneath the tough fabric of his jacket.

“You look incredible,” Bruce said softly. When their eyes met, Clint felt his breath falter to see how alight Bruce’s eyes were. “Where on earth did you find this jacket?” he asked, running his fingers down Clint’s biceps.

“Thrift store,” Clint answered with a shrug. He gently tugged Bruce a little closer. “You look…”

That same blush as before came back and Bruce ducked his head a little. “I feel a little ridiculous,” he admitted softly. “I can change after we drop the kids off—”

“What? No way,” Clint cut in. “You _have_ to wear this to the party. You look way too awesome not to show that off.”

The blush darkened a little, and Clint couldn’t help but smile before he pressed a kiss against Bruce’s lips. The fake fur lining Bruce’s jaw felt odd against Clint’s chin, but he only hummed into the kiss and let his hands travel along Bruce’s sides.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the kiss and they stepped not quite out of each other’s personal space, but far enough to not seem quite so intimate. Clint kept his hand on the small of Bruce’s back as Chrissie and Sammie raced around the corner.

The girls ran straight up to Bruce, breathing heavy and waving their trick-or-treating bags around. “Mommy says we need pictures before we can go get candy!” Sammie said hurriedly all in one breath.

Pepper turned the corner and stepped into the room at a much calmer speed, camera in hand. “Just a few photos,” she said reassuringly, “then you can be on your way.”

When Clint shifted to get out of the way, Bruce caught his hand and lightly tugged until Clint was standing by his side again. Clint met his eyes and swallowed when he saw the earnestness in Bruce’s gorgeous orbs. “I’d like for you to be in at least one of them, if that’s okay,” Bruce told him softly.

Clint felt himself smile and his stomach flip a little. Instead of offering a verbal response, he wrapped an arm around Bruce’s back, letting his hand rest against Bruce’s hip as they settled against each other.

As Sammie and Chrissie posed in front of them, Clint caught Pepper smiling quietly to herself as she looked at him. There was something pleased in her expression, but more than that, she just looked happy.

Clint didn’t get more of a chance to reflect on it, for Bruce’s hand settled comfortably on his side and his attention went to all of the warm points of contact between them.

They took a few photos as a group, and then a few individual shots, and then Pepper got a few of just Bruce and Clint, followed by ones of just Bruce and Chrissie. After getting a few shots of Bruce, Chrissie, and Clint together, Bruce offered to take a few photos of Sammie and Pepper.

“Alright,” she announced once she had finished photographing Sammie and Chrissie together, “I think that about does it. I need to head on back home before the party starts.” She gave her daughter a hug and kissed her forehead. “Have fun, and be good for Bruce and Clint.”

“Yes, Mommy,” Sammie replied dutifully.

Clint stepped away to stick the beer he had brought over into the fridge, and when he got back, they were ready to head out. Bruce left the porch light on and they all walked Pepper to her car. There were already a few trick-or-treaters out on the streets, so Bruce double-checked the way before guiding Pepper’s car out of his driveway.

After waving at Pepper as she drove off, Bruce turned and looked down at the girls. “Okay,” he said in a tone that made both girls grin, “which way first?”

Sammie and Chrissie let out excited giggles and took off to a neighbor’s house.

Clint stayed back with Bruce as they followed along at a calmer speed. It wasn’t completely dark yet, but Clint suspected that by the time they finished this side of the street, they would need the flashlights Bruce had packed for them. The evening air was filled with the laughter of children and the calls of “trick-or-treat!” 

Those calls were joined by Chrissie and Sammie a moment later as Bruce’s neighbor opened the front door. An older man stepped into the doorway and ooh-ed and awed over their costumes.

Clint and Bruce lingered at the end of the driveway on the side of the road. Clint glanced around at all of the different groups of children. “I didn’t realize how many kids you have in your neighborhood,” he commented, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“It’s a pretty big neighborhood,” Bruce replied. “There are a few on this street, but most of them are a little older than Sam and Chrissie. Her friend Susie lives over—”

He was cut off by the sound of his name being called out, which made them both look toward the house they were standing in front of. The older man was waving at them and Chrissie was bouncing in place. “Bruce, get up here so I can see your costume!” the man called.

A small sound of embarrassment escaped from Bruce and Clint couldn’t help but grin. “Go on,” Clint encouraged, nudging Bruce forward.

His grin faltered when Bruce caught his hand. “If I’m going up there, you’re coming with me,” Bruce said, failing to bite back a grin of his own.

The sight of that smile did things to Clint’s stomach, and he could hardly refuse. They walked up the pathway and into the light coming off of the lamp on the porch.

Chrissie bounded up to her father. “See, Mr. Stanley?” she said eagerly, twirling a little to show off her dress. “We’re Beauty and the Beast!”

“I see!” the older man replied, beaming brightly at the sight. “You all look wonderful!” His eyes went to Clint before he looked expectantly back at Bruce.

“Clint,” Bruce began, gesturing toward Stanley with the hand that wasn’t still holding tightly to Clint’s, “this is Stan. Stan, this is Clint—”

“Daddy’s _boyfriend,”_ Chrissie cut in with a sing-song voice and an enormous grin. Sammie giggled.

Clint felt his face turn slightly red and glanced back at the older man, ready for whatever reaction might come, but he was pleasantly surprised to see a soft smile crinkling his care-worn face. 

“Good to meet you, Clint,” Stan said, shifting his bowl of Halloween candy so he could offer Clint a hand.

With a grin, Clint reached out and shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Bah, none of that ‘sir’ stuff,” Stan said with a slight scoff. He peeked around the group on his porch. “Got more kids coming along,” he told them before he smiled at Clint again. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around more often. Now run off and go get more candy!” 

Chrissie and Sammie both cheered and took off down the walkway, shouting “Bye, Mr. Stanley!” behind them. 

Bruce chuckled at the kids’ enthusiasm and turned to follow. “Have a good night, Stan,” he said to his neighbor.

Clint offered a wave as they walked down the path back to the road, smiling when Stan returned it. 

They dodged around a group of kids and followed after Sammie and Chrissie as they went to the next house. 

While the girls went to ring the doorbell, Clint and Bruce lingered on the side of the road, still holding hands. It felt completely natural to be standing out in the open with his boyfriend, as if they had been doing this for years instead of mere weeks.

“Are all of your neighbors that friendly?” Clint asked, glancing over at Bruce.

Bruce’s eyes were still on the kids, but he smiled and lightly squeezed Clint’s hand. “Most of them,” he replied. “Stan’s actually a good friend of mine. He helped me move into the house back when I bought it, and I usually shovel his driveway whenever it snows.”

“He seems nice,” Clint mused as the girls came running back down the walkway to them.

The next house had a streetlamp standing nearby, and Clint took a moment to just look at Bruce. With the fading light, the jacket looked even darker, but with the aid of the streetlamp, there were a few portions that shone and highlighted different parts of his body that Clint couldn’t help but stare at before his eyes went to study his face. Bruce was watching Chrissie and Sam skip down the driveway to the front door with this content little smile on his face.

When Bruce caught him looking, that little smile blossomed into something fuller. “What?” he asked, laughter in his words.

Clint grinned and cozied up to Bruce’s side. “Can’t I just look?” he asked. He ran his fingers along the fabric covering Bruce’s torso before settling his hand on Bruce’s hip. “Seriously, I can’t get over how awesome this costume looks on you.”

Even in the dim light of the streetlamp, Clint could see a faint blush appear on Bruce’s cheeks. “It’s just a costume,” Bruce deflected self-consciously with a small shrug.

“Well, sure,” Clint allowed, “but it’s really the first time I’ve ever seen you wear something that shows off your body a little.” When Bruce ducked his head and his blush darkened, Clint leaned in and pressed a kiss against Bruce’s temple, his forehead bumping slightly against one of the horns in Bruce’s wig. “I like it.”

Bruce glanced slightly over at him, and Clint had to jerk his head back to avoid being poked in the eye by the horn protruding from Bruce’s wig. He grinned at the sound of Bruce’s laugh.

They settled against each other and watched Sammie and Chrissie chorus “trick-or-treat!” together when the front door opened. 

“Chrissie had been dead-set on being Beauty and the Beast for Halloween since July,” Bruce told him. “Tony took the kids to see the musical in the city, and as soon as they got back, she begged and _begged_ to be Belle for Halloween.” He snorted a small laugh. “Tony got a kick out of it when I told him this is what she wanted me to dress up as.”

Clint smirked and lightly jostled Bruce. “Tony’s just jealous that his kid didn’t demand to do a two-person costume with her,” he said, and he grinned when Bruce laughed.

 

==

 

“Coolest Halloween costume. Go,” Clint posed a bit later as Chrissie and Sammie walked up to the next front door.

“You mean aside from this one?” Bruce asked sweetly with a smile that wasn’t innocent in the least. When Clint laughed and nudged him, Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Aw, come on,” Clint pressed with a grin. “There was this one Halloween when me and Barney—my brother—snuck out of the group home. We had stolen some of the clothes from the lost and found, which were _way_ too big on us. We drew on some fake mustaches and tattoos and called ourselves sailors.” He chuckled at the memory of the wobbly anchor he had drawn on his big brother’s forearm, remembering how he had thought it was a masterpiece at the time. “We went trick-or-treating together, and it was _awesome_.”

“That does sound like it would’ve been fun,” Bruce admitted with a small smile, but there was something like concern on his face, too. “How much trouble did you get in?”

“Oh, tons,” Clint replied airily, “but we were always getting into trouble. You never snuck out of your foster or group home?”

“No,” Bruce replied softly. “Thought about it, sure, but I never actually did.”

“I bet if you’d had a big brother there to enable you, you would’ve,” Clint said with a grin to lighten the mood. 

A moment later, Chrissie and Sammie came back to them. They had been trick-or-treating for about two hours now, and their energy was starting to flag. Both of their treat bags looked like they were getting heavy. Clint figured they wouldn’t be out too much longer.

It was only after the girls were walking up the driveway of the next house that Bruce spoke up. “I didn’t really do the whole trick-or-treating thing a whole lot growing up,” he admitted quietly, drawing Clint’s eyes over to him. “The first time I actually went was after I went to live with Jen and her parents, so I was maybe…ten? Eleven?” 

Clint watched him as Bruce thought back on it before he glanced ahead as the front door opened. Light spilled onto the front lawn with the shadows of Chrissie and Sammie standing in the doorway, chorusing _“trick or treat”_ together. His mind went back to the blush and admission that Bruce felt a little ridiculous being dressed up, but he had gone all out for the sake of his daughter. 

His respect for this man shot straight upward again. It continued to floor him just how devoted and loving this man was for his daughter.

“Eleven, almost twelve” Bruce repeated with a nod, pulling Clint from his thoughts and drawing his eyes back to Bruce. There was this nostalgic little smile on his face that made Clint immediately smile. “Aunt Elaine insisted I dress up, and, uh…”

When embarrassment began to leak into Bruce’s voice, Clint felt his smile turn into a grin. “What were you?” he pressed, loving the way his words made Bruce blush.

A self-conscious laugh escaped from him as Bruce shuffled awkwardly in place. “Carl Sagan,” he answered.

Clint immediately burst into laughter.

“Oh hush,” Bruce chided him, but he was laughing, too. “I was a nerdy kid.”

“That’s amazing,” Clint panted in between laughs. “Oh my god, _please_ tell me you wore a turtleneck.”

“Jen has a picture of us somewhere,” Bruce admitted. “It was an awesome costume.”

“You’re such a dork,” Clint said affectionately as his laughter died down into giggles. He threw an arm around Bruce’s shoulders and pressed a kiss against his temple, dodging the horn this time. “I love it. It’s awesome.”

Bruce huffed a small laugh, but the smile on his face made Clint’s heart beat a little harder.

“Clint! Clint!” 

They both looked to where Chrissie and Sammie were jogging down the driveway. “That lady had her dog dressed up!” Chrissie said, pointing back at the house they had just visited.

“It was so cute!” Sammie added.

“I should’ve dressed up Lucky and brought him along,” Clint mused out loud, making both of the kids’ faces light up.

“That would’ve been something,” Bruce said with a smile as he started directing the group down the street. They had just finished up one of the side streets and were now making their way back to the main street, if Clint remembered the layout of the neighborhood right. 

They rounded the street corner and—

“There it is!” Sammie shouted. Everyone looked at the house she was pointing to.

“The scary house,” the girls breathed in unison.

The house in question was within sight, past the next two houses that didn’t have their porch lights on. It was eerily lit and had a fog machine covering the ground in a cloud of fake smoke. On the porch was a limp figure holding the candy dish—likely a person wanting to scare someone.

And despite the distance, Clint noticed a small bit of movement in the thick blanket of leaves under the fog.

Clint felt himself bristle. Jump-scaring kids was a new level of cruel. There was a difference between scaring off preteens and teenagers, but scaring off the little ones? That was just horrible. He really hoped that they had some damn good candy for the nightmares they likely gave children who wanted to brave the spooky house.

Sammie looked over at Chrissie. “R-Ready?” she asked, though she sounded nervous.

Chrissie just stared at the house, mute.

Carefully, Bruce reached down and lightly placed a hand on Chrissie and Sammie’s shoulders. “We can skip that house if you’d like,” he suggested gently. “There are plenty of other houses on this side of the street that we can visit.”

“But we need to do the scary house,” Sammie protested faintly. Next to her, Chrissie nodded a little. 

Clint could see another gentle reassurance on Bruce’s lips, but he stepped forward before the words could hit the air. “Hey,” Clint said softly as he knelt down in front of the kids. They looked at him, and Clint felt something in his chest tighten at the fear he saw on their faces. “You totally don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Before they could offer their weak protests again, he plowed on. “ _But,_ ” he went on with a growing smile, drawing out the word, “you’ve got back-up to keep you safe.” He pulled his prop bow off of his back and held it aloft like a reminder. 

Chrissie and Sammie’s eyes widened when they saw the bow. “Hawkeye,” Chrissie breathed.

“That’s right,” Clint said with a nod. “And you’ve got The Beast here to protect you, too,” he added, smiling up at Bruce.

The look on Bruce’s face made him pause. Clint suddenly found himself lost in the awed adoration swimming in Bruce’s enamored eyes. He had never been looked at like that before; it was such an intoxicating feeling to be on the receiving end of such an intense stare.

He was broken from the spell as Bruce blinked and looked away to the kids. “And remember what you told me,” Bruce said to his daughter, who twisted around to look up at him, “when you first did the balance beam in gymnastics class?”

“That it was scary, but I did it anyway?” she asked softly, shyly.

“That’s right,” Bruce said with a warm smile. “You looked at that balance beam and said ‘I’m not afraid,’ and you did it.” The smile on his face grew impossibly warmer, and even though his eyes weren’t focused on Clint, he still felt his stomach flip at the sight. “Anything that jumps out and tries to scare you, just shout ‘I’m not afraid’ and we’ll protect you.”

The kids gave each other inspired grins and faced the house with fiery determination in their eyes. “Ready?” Sammie asked again, this time steadily.

Chrissie offered a firm nod and tightened the grip on her bag. “Ready.”

With twin shouts, they charged at the house.

A wide grin rushed to Clint’s face and he sprung to his feet. “Come on!” he said eagerly as he caught Bruce’s hand and took off after them.

A startled laugh escaped from Bruce, but he easily kept pace.

They ran after the kids and came to a stop in front of the house. As Chrissie and Sammie kept running for the driveway, their hands released. With the hand that wasn’t holding his prop bow, Clint dug into his pocket for his phone and quickly powered on the screen.

“Are you getting pictures?” Bruce asked with a laugh.

“Video,” Clint replied, grinning as another laugh escaped from Bruce.

They stood back as Chrissie and Sammie came to a stop at the end of the driveway. There was a CD playing spooky music, and just above the audio was the sound of rustling leaves.

The girls hesitated, but when they glanced over at Clint and Bruce and received encouraging smiles, they both fortified themselves and stepped up the driveway.

They barely took three steps before someone leapt up from beneath a pile of leaves with a sudden ghoulish scream. Chrissie and Sammie immediately jumped away with shrieks of terror.

Before they could run away, Clint held his bow up. He made a loud, over exaggerated missile sound, like a whistle, followed by an explosion. “Got ‘em!” he reported with a victorious shout. “Storm the door!”

Chrissie, Sammie, and the stranger all looked over at him with varying levels of surprise and confusion. At the sight of Clint’s triumphant pose, bright grins flashed across the kids’ faces.

Sammie turned back to the stranger with a determined look on her face. “I’m not afraid!” she yelled, taking a defiant step forward.

“Me neither!” Chrissie took a step forward to stand next to Sammie. “My daddy fights wolves!” she shouted.

Laughter immediately burst from both Clint and Bruce as Chrissie grabbed Sammie’s hand. They ran up the driveway together, hand-in-hand, shouting at the next person who tried to jump-scare them. Clint managed to keep his phone steady to keep filming, but he leaned against Bruce. He giggled helplessly into Bruce’s shoulder as he kept filming, leaning closer when Bruce laid a hand upon his back to keep him upright. Bruce had a really nice laugh, Clint realized, and he leaned in even more.

He managed to straighten up as the girls made it to the porch. The person who had originally been playing a limp figure on the porch had sat up and regarded them with something like awed respect.

Clint let out a long breath from his mouth as his laughter subsided. “Oh man,” he breathed, and he promptly started laughing again when Bruce snorted a laugh. “I’m so glad I got that on video,” he said, ending the recording after the girls said “trick-or-treat” to the surprised person on the porch.

“I’m glad you did, too,” Bruce agreed, still smiling more freely than Clint could ever remember seeing him smile before. The sight made Clint grin happily to himself and he leaned a little more into Bruce’s space just to feel Bruce hold him closer. “You have to show that to Tony and Pepper when we drop the kids off.”

“I’m showing this to Tasha, too,” Clint disclosed with a wide smile. “I know she’ll get a kick out of it.”

Before they could go on, Chrissie and Sammie came running back to them. “Daddy! Clint!” Chrissie shouted eagerly as they both came to a stop in front of them. “He gave us each _three_ whole handfuls of candy!” 

“Sweet!” Clint immediately blurted with a grin. “That sounds like a nice reward for conquering the scary house.”

“I hope you said _thank you,”_ Bruce added.

Even as Chrissie replied that they had, Sammie twisted around to shout “thank you!!” Chrissie shot around and echoed the call of gratitude, waving her arm furiously at the strangers.

The strangers awkwardly waved back before they started ridiculing each other for being shouted down by a pair of little girls.

As they walked away to keep heading down the street, Clint grinned down at the kids. “That was amazing,” he said, which made the girls instantly smile widely. “I’m not sure if you guys can top that.”

“We were awesome!” Sammie declared, raising her arms in victory. Chrissie hooted a laugh and threw her arms up, too.

Clint looked up from the kids with a laugh when Bruce lightly nudged him with a friendly elbow. “And that was some fine shooting from you, Hawkeye,” Bruce added with a bright smile. Clint nearly swallowed his tongue, but he was saved from having to think of a reply when Chrissie and Sammie both voiced their agreement. 

“That was so cool how you made that guy explode!” Sammie exclaimed, beaming up at Clint.

“Yeah!” Chrissie cheered. “They were all—” She brought her hands together and then fanned them out with an explosion sound. “And then we—We really did the scary house!” she exclaimed, turning a wide grin over at Sammie.

“We did it!” Sammie shouted triumphantly, and both girls laughed with delight.

Clint felt himself smile at the sound of their happy giggles and looked over at Bruce, only to catch the man already looking at him. There was something tender in the way Bruce was looking at him, the same way he had been looking at Clint before the girls had conquered the spooky house. It made his belly flip giddily in his core to be under that kind of look.

His stomach only flipped harder when Bruce didn’t look away after being caught. Instead, a gorgeous little smile twisted Bruce’s lips and his eyes got impossibly brighter, impossibly fonder. Warmth spread through him and the feeling of breathless affection was nearly overwhelming, but Clint knew he was smiling back.

Without needing to say a word, their hands came together and they walked a little closer to each other as they followed after Chrissie and Sammie to the next house.

It wasn’t until the kids were on their way up the driveway that Bruce slipped his hand away from Clint’s, only to place that hand upon Clint’s hip and slide closer to Clint’s body. Clint was more than happy to wrap his arm around Bruce and hold him close, until they were pressed gently against one another, side by side.

“You’re incredible,” Bruce murmured softly. When Clint peered over at him, Bruce was still watching the girls approach the porch, but when he did meet Clint’s eyes, that floppy feeling returned to Clint’s gut tenfold. “That was amazing, what you gave them.”

Clint swallowed before he could speak. “What, a few extra handfuls of candy?” he ventured, knowing without a doubt that that wasn’t it.

“Courage,” Bruce replied. His eyes remained on Clint’s face for a few heartbeats longer, Clint finding himself getting more and more lost in the peculiar warmth in Bruce’s eyes, before Bruce glanced back at his daughter. “Neither of them would have done that if you hadn’t been here. How did you get to be so good with children?” he asked.

For another moment, Clint stared over at Bruce’s face before he glanced ahead. On the porch, a little old lady was happily doling out candy to Chrissie and Sammie while marveling over their costumes. Clint watched them, and maybe it was a trick of the light or something, but both of them were standing a little straighter, exuding a confidence that hadn’t been there earlier in the evening.

“I don’t know,” Clint replied with a light shrug. “My friends like to joke that I’m just a big child myself, which I guess is why everyone seems so surprised when I tell them you have a kid, so…” He shrugged again and forced himself to stop rambling.

There was a lingering pause between them, and when the little old lady shut her door and the kids started on their way back to them, Clint risked a glance over at Bruce. He found the man watching him with this unreadable look on his face, but instead of it being intimidating, it only made that feeling in his stomach grow stronger. The more and more he felt it, the more he liked it.

Instead of offering a response, Bruce only smiled and held him a little closer, and Clint couldn’t help but melt a little against him. 

They didn’t get to stay like that for very long, as they needed to move on to the next house, but their hands came together again, where they happily stayed as they finished up that side of the street before they reached the street Bruce’s house sat on. Their trick-or-treating adventure was winding down.

“How much candy did you get?” Clint asked as they walked past houses they had already visited.

The kids glanced down at the treat bags they were carrying. _“Tons,”_ Chrissie answered emphatically, and Sammie nodded in agreement.

“It certainly looks like a lot,” Bruce added with a growing smile, shining the flashlight on their bags before turning it back to their path. “Do you think you have room in your bags for _one_ last house?”

Sammie and Chrissie immediately both grinned. “Last house!” they cheered.

Bruce’s house was now in view, and the girls rushed forward with giddy laughter. “Come on, Daddy! Come on, Clint!” Chrissie called back to them eagerly.

“We’re going inside before we drive over there,” Bruce called back, but that didn’t stop the kids from running to the house. He let them run ahead and glanced over at Clint. “I just need to grab a few things before we take them over to Tony and Pepper’s place for the night,” he explained.

“I’m guessing that’s the last house you were talking about?” Clint asked with a smile.

A smile rose to Bruce’s lips as they walked up the driveway. “As if they need any more candy,” he mused, making Clint grin.

Chrissie and Sammie were waiting eagerly on the porch for them and they all but ran inside once Bruce had unlocked the door. Clint and Bruce followed them inside.

“Okay, make sure you use the potty before we head out,” Bruce instructed to the kids, who were peeking into their treat bags to see all of the different kinds of candy they had received. “And Chrissie, are you all packed up?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Chrissie answered, glancing up from her goodie bag.

The kids set down their bags to charge down the hall to carry out Bruce’s instructions. 

Once they were alone for the moment, Bruce checked his watch. “Well, it’s just after seven thirty now, so we should get to your friend’s place by maybe 8:15ish, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Clint replied with a smile, looping his arm around Bruce again and letting his fingers slide along the shiny fabric of Bruce’s jacket. It was wonderful to be in full light again since it allowed Clint to appreciate his costume once more. “Steve and Bucky know not to expect us until like 8:30, it’s cool.”

“Okay,” Bruce replied softly, leaning a little more into Clint’s hold.

They stayed like that for a lingering moment, both of them knowing that they had things they needed to do before they left, but willing to put all of it aside to just enjoy the quiet moment together.

It was the sound of the bathroom door opening, followed by a quietly shared giggle between the two girls that made Bruce begin to draw away. 

“Let me go check on them really quick,” Bruce murmured lowly, giving Clint’s back a fond pat before they separated. “Be right back.”

Clint watched him wander around the corner and down the hall. He heard Bruce’s voice, speaking in a soft and loving tone, too soft for Clint to properly hear. It made him smile to hear Bruce speak like that, and he remained where he was for a heartbeat longer to really appreciate it before he walked into the kitchen to grab what he had brought over earlier. 

Alone in the kitchen, Clint pulled his phone out and checked to see if he had any messages. There were a few emails, along with a message from Kate wishing him a Happy Halloween. He sent back a quick response before he slid through his other text message conversations until he found one in particular. He opened it and typed out a new message.

**_Me: hey we’ll be there in like an hour_ **

The response came through as he was pulling the chilled beer out of the refrigerator. He snorted a laugh when he saw it.

**_Steve: Okay, see you sooobcsv.. grtd ovverr here noow msm_ **

Clint grinned stupidly down at his phone, perfectly imagining what was going on over at the party. He had seen Bucky grab Steve’s phone right out of his hands more than enough times to picture it happening now. Sure enough, a few new text messages came through hardly a heartbeat later.

**_Steve: Buck says hi. And to get over here now._ **

**_Steve: But take your time coming over. We’re just playing a card game._ **

Clint set the beer down on the counter before texting back a quick reply. He heard movement coming from the hall, so he slid his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and grabbed the Halloween cookies he had bought earlier and returned to the living room. 

With Bruce still helping the girls get ready for their sleepover at Tony and Pepper’s place, the living room was empty. Clint sat down on the couch to wait, listening to the low, murmuring of Bruce’s voice as he spoke with the kids. He felt himself smile when the girls giggled together at something he said, and he leaned back a little on the sofa.

He thought about everything that had happened over the course of the evening, and his mind went back to the instances where Bruce had been staring at him so intensely. Just thinking about it now sent his stomach into a series of somersaults. He couldn’t help but believe that they had reached some sort of new level in their relationship tonight, but he hadn’t really done anything. Well, not anything really _differently,_ anyway. 

And the evening wasn’t even over yet.

He blinked from his thoughts as Chrissie and Sammie came racing back into the living room, laughing together. Chrissie had her backpack on, the purple straps complimenting her golden yellow dress quite nicely. 

“Come on, Clint!” Chrissie said eagerly as she ran up to him and grabbed his hand. “Last house!” 

“Last house! Last house!” Sammie chanted fervently, grabbing Clint’s other hand.

“Hang on,” Bruce said as he walked into the room with a toiletries bag in his hand. He swiftly added it to Chrissie’s backpack. Once he had zipped the backpack closed again, he popped into the kitchen. He offered Clint a smile when he returned, a closed container in his hands. “Ready?”

Clint returned the smile.

 

==

 

The four of them barely got a _trick-or-treat_ out before Tony Stark let out a bark of laughter. Behind him, the sound of the Stark Industries Halloween party continued.

Tony’s bright eyes lingered on Bruce for a moment longer before he grinned down at the kids standing at the front of the group. “Jesus, those bags look full,” he said, eyeing the candy bags. Still, he reached into the bright orange bowl in his arms and came up with a handful of candy, which he deposited into Chrissie’s bag before doing the same to Sammie’s. “You adventure around the entire neighborhood?” he asked the girls.

Both kids immediately beamed. “Daddy, we did the scary house!” Sammie exclaimed proudly.

Tony’s smile instantly brightened. “Did you?” His face suddenly grew serious. “Did you get the goods?” he asked in a low voice.

As Bruce snorted a laugh, Sammie nodded with the same grave seriousness as her father. “He gave us three whole handfuls each,” she disclosed. 

Tony nodded approvingly and finally stepped aside to invite them in. 

The inside of the house was just as insanely large as the outside. Clint hadn’t really thought about the connection between Bruce’s friend Tony and the actual wealthy businessman Tony Stark, but this was perhaps the first time Clint was really seeing both sides of the guy at the same time. Tony was in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, his tie the same color that Pepper’s dress had been earlier. 

Tony openly grinned at Bruce as he closed the front door behind them. “I’m digging the new look, big guy,” he said, letting his eyes sweep over Bruce’s body in a way that Clint had found himself doing more than once over the course of the night. 

Instead of rising to whatever bait Tony was laying, Bruce only smiled. “Pepper did a great job with the make-up,” he demurred, watching as Sammie grabbed Chrissie’s hand and dragged her happily away. 

“Damn right, she did,” Tony replied with a bright smile. He glanced over at Clint and offered a hand. “Clint, nice to see you again. Did you have fun trick-or-treating?”

The friendly demeanor threw Clint off for a moment—this was the same guy who had been interrogating him a little less than a month ago—but he smiled and accepted the handshake. “Good to see you again, too, Tony,” he replied. “Yeah, it was pretty great.”

He paused when Bruce smiled over at him and he quickly lost his train of thought at the sight of the light in Bruce’s eyes. “Clint got video of them visiting the scary house,” Bruce disclosed to Tony without looking away from Clint.

Tony whipped around to Clint, and while his expression was intense and serious, his eyes were bright with eagerness. “Show me,” he demanded without another second to lose.

A smile crept to Clint’s face and he obligingly reached into his pocket for his phone. The three of them crowded together as the video came to life. As they watched, Clint leaned a little more against Bruce, and he was thrilled when Bruce looped an arm around him with the kind of ease that came with repetition. 

They got to the moment when the girls stormed the house, and laughter immediately erupted from Tony as he heard the girls shouted at the guy who had jumped out to scare them. “Oh my god,” Tony managed, grinning at the screen. “You need to send that to me. I need it.”

As the video ended, Clint offered Tony his phone. “Go on and send it to yourself,” he said.

“I got it,” Bruce said, taking the phone from Clint when Tony got this look on his face. Oh, right. Clint remembered Tony saying something about how he didn’t like to be handed things back in the park. As Bruce started fiddling with Clint’s phone, he peered momentarily over at Tony. “So, should I come back by tomorrow to pick up Chrissie, or—”

“Nah,” Tony cut in airily, “Pep and I are going to take the girls to breakfast and probably a movie or something in the morning. We’ll drop her off at your place after.” He turned a grin over at Clint. “Give you two some time to yourselves, and all.”

Bruce glanced up and looked at Tony, a surprised little look on his face, but before he could say anything, the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps redirected their attention.

A moment later, Sammie and Chrissie raced back around the corner and nearly crashed into Tony’s legs. “Daddy, Daddy! Can we watch a movie?” Sammie asked eagerly.

“Sure,” Tony replied. “Let’s go get you guys all set up.”

“Hang on,” Bruce said as he stepped forward and picked up Chrissie, “not before I get my good-night kisses.” 

Chrissie twisted in his arms to wrap her arms around his neck, grinning happily as Bruce pressed a kiss against her cheek. They shared a loving embrace and another quick kiss. “Love you, sweetheart,” Bruce murmured softly. “Be good for Tony and Pepper.”

“I’m always good,” Chrissie replied cheekily before she kissed Bruce again. “I love you, too.”

Clint found himself smiling sappily at the entire scene, but his smile slipped when Chrissie twisted to him and held out her arms, smiling expectantly. He obligingly lifted her from Bruce’s hold for her to hug him. His smile immediately returned at the feeling of her little arms embracing him.

“Good night, Clint,” Chrissie said against his throat.

“Good night, kiddo,” Clint returned quietly, entranced by how warm and full his chest felt. “Thanks for letting me tag along with you guys.”

“Thanks for protecting us,” Chrissie said, pulling back to smile brightly at him. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, and that feeling in his chest skyrocketed. 

He set her down, and she and Sammie immediately took off with peals of eager laughter.

Tony watched them run off before he glanced back at Clint and Bruce. “I’m sure my daughter wishes you both a good night as well,” he offered dryly, “but obviously Disney’s siren call beckons them.” A bright smile then crossed his face. “You kids have a good night. Don’t stay out too late.”

“This from you?” Bruce replied with a quirked eyebrow, but he grinned at the sound of Tony’s bark of laughter. “Have a good night, Tony.”

Tony waved them off and turned the corner to go follow after the girls.

Clint watched him disappear before he felt Bruce’s hand slip into his. When he turned, Bruce was smiling expectantly at him. “Shall we?” Bruce asked.

An excited smile came to Clint’s face. 

 

==

 

“This is it,” Clint announced, grinning out the passenger side window, and Bruce neatly parallel parked the car in between Sam’s car and a neighbor’s. There were a few other vehicles around, all Clint recognized as belonging to his friends, and he felt his smile widen with excitement. The group present for the party was a good collection of folks. Clint knew they would welcome Bruce into their circle with open arms.

Bruce, however, looked a little nervous as he rounded the car to come to Clint’s side. His eyes did a quick scan of all of the other cars present.

Clint slid the loops of his plastic grocery bag carrying the Halloween cookies up his arm and wrapped his other around Bruce. “You ready?” he asked, giving Bruce’s body a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I’m sure we’ll all get along,” Bruce said, glancing over at Clint with a tiny, but anxious smile.

After giving Bruce another affectionate squeeze, Clint started to lead the way up to the porch. “Kate couldn’t make it—something about a party with kids her own age,” he explained, “but you already know Tasha and Darcy from gymnastics class. And everyone else has been wanting to meet you for a while,” he offered a sort of cringing smile, “so I’m going to go ahead and apologize now if you get bombarded.” 

At the nervous look that flashed across Bruce’s face, Clint leaned in and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “But I’ll be here the whole time,” he reassured.

They made it to the porch and Clint rang the doorbell.

A moment later, they could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened to reveal Steve Rogers, dressed as the world’s hottest baseball player and holding a popcorn bowl of candy.

“Trick or treat,” Clint said with an innocent grin, holding up his plastic bag like he had seen Chrissie and Sammie do all evening.

“You made it!” Steve replied with a bright smile that overtook his whole face. His focus went to Bruce, and his eyes grew wide. “That is the best costume I’ve seen all night,” he said in a rushed breath, staring at Bruce as his smile widened. Before Bruce could respond or even duck his head in embarrassment, though, Steve held out his hand. “Bruce, right? I’m Steve.”

Steve’s relaxed manner seemed to put Bruce a little more at ease, for a friendly smile crossed Bruce’s face and he shook Steve’s hand. “Hi Steve,” he replied. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Thanks for having us.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Steve returned, still smiling broadly. “Clint’s told us so much about you.”

Bruce glanced over at Clint, who immediately grinned. “Good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” Steve reassured as he stepped aside to invite them inside. “Come on in. Everyone’s in the living room.”

Sure enough, Clint could hear laughter and conversation coming from down the hall. Steve set down the nearly empty bowl of Halloween candy and led them through the house.

“Look who made it,” Steve announced as they turned the corner. 

_“Dude,”_ came a voice as soon as they stepped into the room, “that is a _sick_ Beast costume!” Clint looked to Darcy, who was lounging back on the sofa with an open bottle of something in her hand and grinning wildly at Bruce. Clint wasn’t sure what her costume was, but she was wearing a blue dress with _Police Box_ written across her chest with _Public Call_ in smaller font in the space between those two words. There was a blue hairpiece atop her dark hair. “Hi, Dr. Banner,” she said with a bright smile.

“Why are you a telephone box?” Clint asked, looking at the thing in her hair.

“She’s the TARDIS,” Bruce said before Darcy could call him something unkind. As Darcy’s offended look instantly melted away into excited approval, Bruce smiled. “Hi, Ms. Lewis.”

“Psh,” Darcy scoffed, waving off the formalities. “You got my costume right, so to you, I’m just Darcy tonight.”

“Then I’ll just be Bruce,” Bruce replied with a friendly smile.

“In that case,” Natasha said from next to Darcy, “I’m Natasha tonight.” She was holding a cup of something; knowing Tasha, it probably held some kind of vodka. He had seen her costume slowly come together while they had worked on his, but to see the fully assembled assassin get-up was _awesome. ___

She offered Bruce a disarming smile as she lifted her cup toward her lips. “Glad you could make it, Bruce,” she said.

As Bruce smiled again, Clint wrapped his arm around Bruce again. “Everyone,” he said to the room at large, “this is my boyfriend, Bruce. I’m going to ask you all nicely not to scare him away.”

“Why would we do that?” Sam asked with an easy grin from where he was sitting in a nearby armchair. He was dressed as some kind of steampunk aviator, complete with red tinted goggles resting on his forehead and suspenders. 

Clint rolled his eyes, but gestured with his six-pack of beer bottles. “Bruce, this is Sam Wilson,” he introduced. “He’s a therapist at the VA and a regular at the gym with Steve and Buck.” 

He gestured to where Bucky was sitting on one part of a loveseat, dressed almost entirely in black. He had on a jacket and open-fingered gloves on both hands. He was lounging back against the cushions, fiddling idly with a masquerade mask that Clint guessed he had been wearing earlier.

“That’s James Barnes, but everyone just calls him Bucky,” Clint explained as Bucky offered Bruce a friendly wave. “He and Steve have been best friends and boyfriends for pretty much _ever._ ” 

Clint glanced around the room again, a frown coming to his face. “Huh,” he said out loud, thinking back to the different cars he had seen minutes ago, “I thought I saw—”

“Dr. Banner!” came a jubilant voice from across the room. Clint and Bruce both jumped and whirled around to where Thor was standing at the island in the open kitchen, proudly dressed as a pirate or something. He was positively beaming this radiant smile that could brighten any room with its jollity. “I did not realize it was you that had captured Clint’s heart!”

As a smile of recognition spread across Bruce’s face, Clint felt his brow furrow. The question of how on earth they already knew each other never made it past his lips, as the lab coat-clad answer peeked around Thor and a smile lit up her face. “Bruce!” Dr. Jane Foster said in delighted surprise. 

“Hi Thor. Hi Jane,” Bruce replied with a shy little wave. He glanced over at Clint and must have seen the confusion on his face. “Jane and I work together,” he explained with a growing smile. “I didn’t realize you and Thor worked at the same gym.”

“Small world,” Jane mused, still smiling.

Clint turned a look over to Thor, who only shrugged in a _what can you do_ kind of manner. To think, he and Bruce had mutual acquaintances…they could have met a lot sooner, had the cards been different.

“Oh sweet, you guys know each other!” Darcy said with a happy grin. “See, Jane? Now you’re not the only one here who isn’t a gym rat like the rest of us.”

“Thanks for that, Darcy,” Sam deadpanned, but he smiled as the rest of the room laughed.

Steve led Clint and Bruce over to the kitchen as Thor and Jane returned to the living room with a collection of fresh drinks for the room at large. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” Steve asked, ever the host. “I mean, I see Clint brought his own since we refuse to buy the garbage he drinks—”

“Hey,” Clint cut in half-heartedly.

“But Bruce?” Steve went on. “We’ve got beer, this weird jungle juice thing Thor and Buck made, water, soda…”

“Water’s fine, thank you,” Bruce said with a little smile as he moved to the snack table and set down the container he was carrying.

As Steve poured a cup of water, Clint cozied up to Bruce and set his own container of grocery store cookies down upon the table. “What’d you bring?” he asked curiously, eyeing the dark container.

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Steve said as he put the pitcher of filtered water back into the fridge.

“It’s no trouble,” Bruce replied reassuringly, turning to smile at Steve. “I figured since I wouldn’t be drinking any of your alcohol, I could at least bring something for everyone to eat.” As he said that, he turned back around and pulled the lid off of the container.

“Oh my god, are those rice crispy treats?” Clint immediately blurted.

“What?!” Darcy suddenly appeared next to them, peering eagerly at the homemade treats. “Bruce is my new favorite.”

From the living room, Thor gave a booming laugh. “Dr. Banner is well known for his baked and other sugary delicacies at the university,” he disclosed to the rest of the group as they all got to their feet.

“It’s true,” Jane confirmed, turning a little smile over at her colleague. “Everyone should grab one before Darcy eats them all,” she added, laughing when Darcy threw a rude gesture her way.

Bruce ducked his head bashfully, looking like he wanted to crawl into the cup Steve just handed him. Just the sight of him made Clint’s stomach flip in his core. How on earth could this man be so adorable? 

A warm smile crossed Clint’s face and he cozied back up against Bruce, wrapping an arm around him and letting his hand rest upon his hip. His stomach performed more acrobatics when Bruce leaned almost instinctively back against him. Clint smiled happily and pressed a kiss against Bruce’s cheek.

Everyone grabbed a plate of food from the snack table before returning to the living room. Thor and Jane joined Natasha and Sam on the sofa, and Steve and Bucky curled up together on one of the loveseats. Instead of taking the armchair Sam had abandoned, Darcy happily sat herself down on the carpet. Clint and Bruce got the other loveseat across from Steve and Bucky.

As they all settled back down, Clint was pleased to see that nearly everyone had grabbed one of Bruce’s rice crispy treats, himself included. They were perfectly adorable; perfectly cut into little squares, and mixed in were festive little orange candy pieces.

He glanced up when he heard the doorbell ring. 

Steve looked over at Bucky. “Your turn.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but obligingly abandoned his spot next to Steve and got up to go answer the door. They heard the calls of _trick or treat_ from the living room as the door was opened.

“How was trick or treating earlier?” Sam asked Clint and Bruce from next to Natasha. 

“It was great,” Clint answered, turning a bright smile over at Bruce who was smiling quietly to himself. “For only wandering around the neighborhood, the girls got a _ton_ of candy.” His grin widened as he reached into his pocket for his phone. “They conquered one of the scary houses—y’know, the ones where some assholes decide it’s a great idea to scare kindergarteners and such.”

“Which earned them even _more_ candy,” Bruce added, smiling at the memory.

“And,” Clint said, holding up his phone, “I got it _all_ on video.” He tossed it over to Natasha, who caught it easily. “You’ll get a kick out of it.”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him before she finally turned her focus to the phone in her hand. As she started the video, Sam leaned in to watch over her shoulder. Darcy abandoned her spot on the carpet to do the same.

As soon as Darcy circled the couch to watch, she let out a squeak of delight. “Oh my god, she’s dressed as Belle.” 

“Who’s dressed as a bell?” Bucky asked as he wandered back into the room, depositing the candy bowl in the vacant armchair.

“No, _Belle_ ,” Steve clarified as he joined Darcy in watching the video. “It’s from that mov—”

He was cut short when twin screams of fright came from the phone. A whistling sound came out of the phone’s speakers next, followed by an explosion sound. “Got ‘em!” came Clint’s voice from the speakers. “Storm the door!”

By this point, everyone but Clint and Bruce had crowded around the couch to watch the video. Clint grinned as laughter rang through the room as the girls shouted at the men trying to scare them off. He leaned a little more into Bruce as a gorgeous smile crossed his lips, and something inside his chest melted a little when Bruce wrapped an arm around him to draw him closer.

“Their bravery is admirable,” Thor declared as the video came to an end. He turned a teasing grin over at Bruce. “I did not know you fought wolves for recreation, though.”

“Good for them, shouting down those bullies,” Steve said with a pleased nod, moving back to his spot on the loveseat. “I hope they got some really great candy out of that.”

“Three extra handfuls,” Bruce supplied before he smiled at Clint. “All it took was a motivational speech from Hawkeye,” he said, lightly jostling Clint.

Clint could feel himself begin to blush as all of his friends peered contently at him, especially as Darcy let out an “aww.” But it was Natasha’s intense stare and pleased little smile that got to him most, and he ducked his head a little to glance at the suspiciously cleared-off coffee table.

“So, what card game were you guys playing earlier?” Clint asked, changing the topic as everyone got resettled in the living room.

Bucky and Darcy immediately grinned, and the latter scooted forward along the carpet until she was seated at the coffee table. “Only the greatest game ever,” she replied. She reached under the table and pulled out an empty box.

Clint immediately barked a laugh. “You guys already broke out _Cards Against Humanity_?” he asked. 

“We couldn’t wait to get started,” Thor disclosed with a bright smile, watching as Darcy began to pull stacks of cards from under the table and place them on the surface.

“And why did you feel the need to hide everything before we got here?” Clint asked, quirking an eyebrow. “It’s not surprising at all that you couldn’t restrain yourselves.” 

“We wanted you to guess who’s winning,” Sam said.

“Steve,” Clint replied without pause.

“You’re no fun,” Natasha announced even as Steve smiled quietly to himself and Bucky proudly threw an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“Steve always wins,” Clint protested when an amused little chuckle escaped from Bruce. “That’s also not surprising.”

“Jane’s in second,” Bucky added.

Jane ducked her head a little as Clint turned wide eyes over toward her, but there was no denying the pleased grin on her face.

“Now that _is_ surprising,” Clint replied at last.

Bruce snorted softly. “Not really,” he said.

Interested glances all turned in his direction, but before anyone could start demanding explanation (or possibly funny stories), Jane leaned forward and glared at him. “Robert Bruce Banner, if you say a word to _anyone,_ I swear I’ll make you rue the day you crossed me.”

As the room dissolved into laughter, Bruce held his hands up in surrender.

“Al _right_ ,” Darcy began once the laughter had died down and she had started dealing out a hand for Clint and Bruce, “let’s get this party started!”

And while they played, Clint couldn’t help but watch the group with something like awe. As the game progressed, Bruce became more and more relaxed with the group of people surrounding them. He laughed freely with everyone, and Clint was so thankful for his group of friends being so welcoming. He loved his friends a little more than ever just then, and when he somehow caught Natasha’s eye and saw the quietly happy expression in her eyes, he couldn’t help but smile brightly. 

He really had the best friends.

As everyone was laughing uproariously at the winner of the current hand (“My country, ‘tis of thee, sweet land of _Leprosy_ ”), Clint melted a little more against Bruce’s side and immediately beamed radiantly when Bruce pressed a quick affectionate kiss against Clint’s brow. 

It was a good night.

 

==

 

“…we can just wake him up.”

Clint was roused from sleep just enough to make sense of the softly spoken words that had awoken him, but he kept his eyes shut and his breathing deep and regular. He was ridiculously comfortable and didn’t feel like abandoning the pleasant warmth he was wrapped in.

“We could,” came another voice. Bucky’s, Clint realized after a moment. “But you’re both more than welcome to stay the night. It’s already after two, and given how close that university is, I’d hate for you guys to be on the road with some drunk students. It’d be safer if you just stayed.”

“I’d hate to intrude,” was the reply from Bruce. Clint heard the rumbling of his voice and realized he was currently using Bruce’s chest as a pillow. If he had been more awake, he would have smiled in delight, but on the edge of sleep, he only took comfort in it. He wanted to curl more into the warmth that he now knew was Bruce’s, but that would require moving, and he was way too comfortable.

“You’re not intruding in the least, man,” Bucky replied. “We already have three other people staying over; you’re fine. I just want to make sure you’ll be comfortable.” There was a hint of humor in those last few words.

Clint felt Bruce shift minutely beneath him and a hand run affectionately along his arm until Bruce was holding him more closely. “I am,” Bruce’s response came a moment later, sounding a little awed. “I…thank you, Bucky.”

“Absolutely, man,” Bucky returned. “Hang on, I’m gonna grab a blanket from down the hall.”

Clint heard Bucky’s heavy boot steps leave the room, but he was more focused on the delightfully warm man he had been sleeping against. He was aware of the comforting hand on his arm and the loose embrace he was being held in. It was…It was really nice, Clint realized. 

He felt Bruce shift a little again. When Bruce’s lips pressed gently— _tenderly_ —against his forehead, a burst of warmth rushed through Clint’s body, and he couldn’t help but snuggle a little closer. And when Bruce held him all the closer, Clint was lulled a little more back to slumber, safe and cared for and even…even loved.

It was a very good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, everyone! Bruce's costume is based off of the [Beauty and the Beast Broadway show](http://newsinfo.iu.edu/pub/libs/images/usr/8590.jpg).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

It was a very gentle movement that slowly pulled Clint from slumber. A sleepy noise—almost a grumble—escaped from him and he snuggled closer to the delightful warmth he was pressed against, and the movement went still. When his pillow stopped fidgeting, another sleepy noise issued from him, this time sounding much more content.

His pillow shifted with the huff of laughter that Clint felt dance upon his hair. A gentle hand came to a rest on Clint’s back, and Clint happily let himself be cuddled closer to the warm body he was pressed up against.

“G’morning,” came a drowsy greeting, rumbling deeply in the chest Clint had his head resting on.

“Shh,” Clint replied, tipping his face more into Bruce’s chest. “ ‘s still dark.”

“Not really,” Bruce answered, but there was no mistaking the smile in his voice.

With a groan of effort, Clint let his head lob over to the side so that his left ear was resting against Bruce’s chest. He took a moment to just listen to the man’s heartbeat and breathing before he tried opening his eyes. 

Sure enough, the room was just beginning to brighten with pre-dawn light. 

He was just about to point out that until there was actual rays of sunlight coming into the room that it was still night, but his protestations were immediately put on hold when Bruce’s hand carefully slid up Clint’s back. He melted happily back against Bruce as his fingers settled in the short hairs on the nape of his neck.

They stayed curled up against each other for a few blissful moments. Between the lulling rise and fall of Bruce’s chest and the delightfully soft scratching of fingers in his hair, Clint started to fall back asleep.

He blinked awake from his doze when there was the sound of someone moving deeper in the house. It took a moment to remember that they were still at Steve and Buck’s place, where they had stayed after the Halloween party.

When Clint lifted his heavy eyelids and peeked upward, he grinned at the sight of Bruce still in his Beast costume, though now he was sleep-rumpled. The makeup on his nose was smeared a little and the fake beard and fangs were starting to come off. More attractive than that was how soft Bruce appeared this soon after waking up.

Bruce met his eyes and smiled at the sight of Clint’s grin. “What?” he asked softly.

Clint pushed himself up a little, mindful of where he put his hands lest he accidentally squash the man beneath him, and pressed a kiss against Bruce’s cheek. “You look amazing,” he said in a low whisper. He cuddled into Bruce again when Bruce’s hands circled around to his back in a loose, but enamored embrace. “Did you have fun last night?”

“I did,” Bruce answered quietly, lifting his chin as Clint snuggled his face into his neck. “Your friends are really great. Did…Did you have fun?”

Clint realized at once that he was talking about the trick-or-treating adventure with Chrissie and Sammie before last night’s get-together. He smiled and kissed Bruce’s neck, delighting in the little shiver he felt run through Bruce’s body. “It was a blast,” Clint replied.

There was a sound of a flushing toilet from down the hall, and they both fell silent again as they heard the mystery person return to a different room. A giddy feeling went through Clint at the thought of them being sneaky, curled together like this, despite how non-sneaky they actually were. It was like being a teenager again, almost.

“What are you doing today?” Clint whispered.

“Why are we whispering?” Bruce returned, quiet laughter in his words even as he whispered his question.

“Because we’re trying not to get caught,” Clint said with a mischievous grin. He pressed another kiss against Bruce’s throat at the sound of a low chuckle. “So…?”

Bruce let one of his hands travel back into Clint’s hair and resumed his light scratches, and Clint all but melted back against Bruce. “I need to get the Halloween decorations down,” Bruce began softly, “and I’ve been meaning to rake the yard, and I have a few more essays to grade before tomorrow.”

“Busy day,” Clint murmured. “Do you want a hand with the yard work?” he asked.

“You really don’t—” 

“No, I want to,” Clint cut in, lifting his head to look at Bruce directly. “It’ll go by faster with a second set of hands, and it’ll probably be more fun with someone there to help.”

“What about archery practice with Kate?” Bruce asked.

Clint scoffed. “Kate had a Halloween party with a bunch of college-aged kids. She’s gonna need the morning to recuperate.” At Bruce’s little huff of laughter, Clint smiled. “So…?” he pressed again.

Bruce glanced away for a moment, and Clint watched as he thought everything over. When Bruce finally looked back at him, Clint knew he had won. A victorious grin spread across his face and he pressed another kiss against Bruce’s cheek. “How about we do breakfast at my place, and then we can head back to yours?”

Bruce returned Clint’s grin with a quiet smile of his own. “That sounds perfect,” he replied.

==

“Home, sweet home,” Clint breathed happily (and a little nervously) as he pushed open his front door and ushered Bruce inside. He had thankfully cleaned up a little after his archery classes yesterday, so his apartment was more presentable than it had been the first time Bruce had been here. 

He closed the door behind them and took a moment to study the lines of Bruce’s body, still made wonderfully clear in his form-fitting royal blue costume. “I, uh, have some clothes you can borrow, if you want to shower and get out of your costume,” he offered.

“That’d be great,” Bruce said, glancing back at Clint with a sheepish little smile. 

Clint felt a smile cross his face and he led the way deeper into his apartment, pausing briefly to pet Lucky. “There should be a clean towel in the bathroom for you to use,” he said as Bruce followed him up the steps into the loft—his bedroom. He felt his stomach flip in his core at the thought of Bruce standing in his bedroom, but the bathroom was up here, so it was really kind of unavoidable. Still, though…

He hoped there wasn’t a flush on his face when he turned to give Bruce a quick smile before launching himself at his dresser to find some clothes. After digging through his drawer, he pulled out a well-loved t-shirt and a pair of workout pants that he hoped would fit. 

When he turned around, Bruce was pulling off the horned wig. He watched as Bruce ran a hand over his head to muss his flattened hair, and the result was a fluffy mess of salt and pepper curls. 

Bruce grinned at the sound of Clint’s snort of laughter. “Not quite?” he asked with an innocent smile.

“Not quite,” Clint replied, still grinning. He walked up to the other man and let his hand run through Bruce’s hair, making it even messier. As Bruce laughed, Clint handed him the clothes and leaned in for a quick kiss. “But you wear it well.”

Bruce hummed against his lips when Clint kissed him again, and then they parted ways. Clint trotted down the steps as Bruce slipped into the bathroom to take a shower.

After returning from taking Lucky out, Clint stopped in upstairs to get changed out of his Halloween costume. He did so quickly, not wanting Bruce to catch him in a state of undress. He wasn’t quite sure they were quite there in their relationship yet, and he didn’t want to make his boyfriend uncomfortable.

Now dressed in a pair of comfy jeans and a t-shirt, he trotted back down into the kitchen. He perused his fridge and determined he had the right ingredients to make omelets. He started the coffee maker and placed his kettle on the stove to heat some water as he started cooking up breakfast. He heard the shower shut off overhead.

As he was sliding the second omelet off of the frying pan and onto a plate, Lucky perked up. Clint’s eyes followed his dog to the stairs and he felt himself perk up in a similar way as he spotted Bruce stepping down onto the main floor, leaning down to give Lucky some enthusiastic attention.

Clint knew he was staring, but honestly, how could he not? There Bruce was, shower-damp and standing in his apartment with the early-morning sunlight casting a glow around him, in Clint’s clothes. Bruce looked good in purple, Clint knew that, but to see him in one of Clint’s favorite purple t-shirts was something else completely.

Bruce glanced up at him and offered a shy little smile before coming over. “Need a hand with anything?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Clint’s waist that had Clint smiling happily.

“I’ve got it,” he replied. He set down the frying pan and reached over to open one of the overhead cupboards. “There’s some tea up there that I keep for Natasha, if you wanted a cup,” he said.

While Clint moved to set the omelets on the kitchen island, Bruce perused the small tea collection that Natasha had slowly accumulated in his kitchen. Before long, they were both sitting at the kitchen island together, steaming cups of tea and coffee sitting together in front of them as they ate breakfast.

As they were eating, Bruce glanced around at the apartment with a more thorough eye than the first time he had been here. Clint watched him, idly chewing on a mouthful of eggs, so he caught when Bruce found the little art kit lingering on the counter that Clint hadn’t thought to put away yet. 

“Is that a tie-dye kit?” Bruce asked with a little smile.

When Bruce glanced over at him, Clint felt himself blush. “Yeah,” he replied. “When I babysat Chrissie, I showed her what tie-dye is.”

“Ah, so it was _you_ who introduced her to it,” Bruce said, his smile growing. “I was wondering. Almost all of the drawings she’s been bringing home from preschool and daycare lately have been covered in spiraling rainbows.”

Clint broke into a grin and looked across the way at the kit sitting out in the open. “Tasha and I were at an artsy-fabric store looking for stuff for our Halloween costumes, and I saw a do-it-yourself kit. And I may have bought some plain white t-shirts that should be Chrissie’s size.”

Bruce stared at him for a lingering moment before his eyes brightened and that gorgeous smile crossed his face again. “You’re incredible,” Bruce said fondly. “She’ll be thrilled.”

Clint allowed himself to be pulled in for a quick kiss, which he gladly reciprocated. “She was pretty excited when I showed her what it was,” he said when they broke apart. “Do you think we’ll have time to do it this afternoon, once Tony and Pepper drop her off?”

“Probably,” Bruce replied. “Taking the Halloween decorations down won’t take long.”

As they both took another bite of their breakfast, Clint glanced at the digital clock on his microwave. It was still disgustingly early for a Sunday, barely after seven o’clock in the morning. “I doubt getting the leaves up will take all that long, too, with the two of us,” Clint offered.

When an odd look crossed Bruce’s face, Clint leaned over and bumped shoulders with him. “I really do want to help,” he reassured the man again, soft and sincere. “I want to spend time with you, Bruce.”

“Doing my yard work with me?” Bruce asked, giving Clint a hesitant side-eyed look.

“Yeah,” Clint replied, “ _with you._ ” When Bruce didn’t offer any other response but a mildly awed silence, Clint smiled a little and collected their empty plates. “I really like spending my time with you, Bruce,” he said as he walked around the kitchen island to clean up. He focused on rinsing off the plates as he went on. “We could be doing anything together, and it’d still be great.” He glanced up at Bruce and found the other man still staring at him, and a grin made its way to his face. “Plus, we get to do tie-dye later, so…yeah. No contest.”

Bruce snorted a laugh at that, but as he looked off to collect their used mugs, Clint could tell he was reassured that yeah, he really did want to spend time with him, whether they were going out to dinner or doing chores together.

“No contest, hmm?” Bruce asked with a little smile on his face as he circled the kitchen island to stand at Clint’s side.

Just the sight of it made something in Clint’s chest flutter. “Not when tie-dye’s involved.” His grin brightened when Bruce slipped an arm around him and stood close enough to Clint’s side to feel some of the warmth coming off of him.

Together, they cleaned up the dishes in a peaceful hush. 

As Clint was settling into the tranquility of the whole thing, the sound of clicking nails on the linoleum kitchen floor broke him from his thoughts. The pair glanced over in time to see Lucky wandering into the kitchen, no doubt in search of a treat of leftover breakfast that Clint never had the heart to deny him.

“Sorry, Luck,” Clint said as the dog came to a stop on his other side, “I’ve got nothing for you.”

The news didn’t deter Lucky from staring up at Clint, still waiting.

Before Clint could shoo him away, Bruce spoke up. “Do you want to bring him along with us today?”

Both Clint and Lucky glanced over at Bruce.

==

The drive back to Bruce’s place passed in a comfortable silence. There weren’t too many people on the road this early in the morning, with it being a Sunday and the morning after Halloween. There were a few clouds in the sky and the air had a crispness to it that bespoke of the coming of winter, but the day would warm up.

Clint found himself staring less at the open road or his dog in the back seat, choosing instead to stare at Bruce. Not wanting to put on a portion of his Halloween costume back on, Clint had offered Bruce his purple hoodie for the trip back. Seeing Bruce in one of his most favorite pieces of clothing was doing things to him, and he couldn’t help but stare.

He didn’t realize they had arrived at the house until Bruce turned off the car, snapping Clint from his wandering thoughts. 

“The backyard is fenced off, if you wanted to let Lucky out back there,” Bruce said as they climbed out of the vehicle.

“That’ll work,” Clint replied. He helped Lucky down out of the car and grabbed the end of the leash before the dog could begin to explore.

Together, the three of them walked inside. 

“You remember where the basement is?” Bruce asked as he closed the door behind them.

“Through the kitchen, yeah?” Clint asked, glancing over at Bruce briefly before going back to watching Lucky sniff at the shoes by the front door.

“You got it,” Bruce replied. “I’m going to go change into something I can do yardwork in.”

Clint grinned over at him. “You don’t want to do yardwork in my clothes?”

“With the way you were staring at me on the drive over here?” Bruce asked with a cheeky grin. “We’d get nothing done.”

Clint promptly felt his face heat up. 

As he tried to stammer out some sort of explanation, a gorgeous smile crossed Bruce’s face and he stepped in close and pressed a kiss against Clint’s lips. When he pulled back, Clint was relieved to see a mild blush upon Bruce’s cheeks. He didn’t seem put off that Clint had been staring; he actually looked a little flattered.

Clint wondered how long it had been since someone had looked at Bruce like he was the most gorgeous thing within sight.

Reassured, Clint leaned in and stole another quick kiss. “Well, I mean, can you blame me?” he asked softly. When Bruce’s blush darkened, Clint grinned and stepped back. “I’m gonna let Lucky out back.”

While Clint went to the basement to let Lucky outside from the sliding door, Bruce went off to go change. Clint hadn’t really had a chance to look around the backyard the last few times he had been here, since it had been getting dark or the sun had already been down each time he had been at Bruce’s, so he followed Lucky outside to take a look.

There were a few toys scattered about: a soccer ball, a rubber ball with what looked like Disney princesses on it, and a Frisbee. After being released from his leash, Lucky ran up to each toy and sniffed it before making his way down the hill toward where a tree stood toward the bottom. On the other side of the chain-link fence was a little creek, the water trickling tranquilly along.

And at the bottom of the hill, tucked into the corner of the yard, was a little garden. It was covered in chicken wire, but from where Clint was standing, he could see that it appeared to be thriving. It probably wouldn’t be long before the winter chill cleared out the vegetation.

The sound of the door sliding open behind him made Clint turn around and Lucky happily bound back up the hill. Bruce slid the door shut behind him and gave Clint a bright smile that Clint couldn’t help but return. He had changed out of Clint’s clothes and into a pair of jeans and a worn jacket that looked well-loved, along with a pair of tennis shoes. He had Clint’s purple hoodie draped over an arm and a bowl of water in his hand.

Clint grinned when Lucky trotted straight up to Bruce and nosed at his free hand. “I think you’re his new favorite,” Clint commented as he strolled over to the pair.

Bruce gave the dog some enthusiastic attention before urging Lucky to go back to exploring the new terrain. “A yard really makes all the difference,” he replied, setting the bowl of water down. He handed Clint his sweater. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Clint said. 

They wandered back inside, leaving Lucky to the backyard, and together they went back up the stairs to the main level of the house. Before they stepped out the front door, Clint dropped off his hoodie and zipped up the jacket he was wearing. 

“You ready to get to work?” Clint asked with a grin once they were outside.

“If you get bored, you’re more than welcome to stop,” Bruce told him, offering him another out. 

Clint rolled his eyes fondly and draped an arm over Bruce’s shoulders. “It sounds like you’re trying to talk me out of helping,” he said. 

“I’m not,” Bruce replied even as he allowed himself to be led down the front steps and into the yard. “I appreciate that you want to help, I really do. I just…”

Clint leaned in and silenced that trailing thought off with a quick kiss to Bruce’s cheek. “Just go with it, man,” he said softly, meeting Bruce’s gaze evenly with his own. He flashed him a bright smile before he stepped back and surveyed the yard before them. There really weren’t that many Halloween decorations to take down. “What would you like me to start on?”

A thankful smile appeared on Bruce’s face even as he breathed a resigned sigh. “If you want to start taking down the fake spider webs from the bushes, that’d be great. It can just be tossed out.”

“Yes sir,” Clint said with a loose salute before walking across the yard with determination toward the bushes, purposely kicking up fallen leaves as he went just to hear Bruce laugh behind him.

They got to work; as Clint tore down the spider web, Bruce started pulling up the strands of lights that lined the walkway to the front door and along the garden. The chill in the air was still present, but with the activity, it was actually pretty comfortable. 

Clint carefully stepped into the garden, mindful of where he placed his feet to avoid crushing any of the flowers that had survived so far into the fall. “Did you plant all of these yourself?” he asked after a while.

Bruce glanced up from what he was doing to glance at the flowers in question. “Chrissie and I did them together,” he answered, smiling a little. “She picked out some purple petunias and the marigolds back in April. We had some tulips earlier in the year, but they never seem to last long. I’m going to show her how to plant flowers from seeds in the spring.”

“Green thumbs run in the family, eh?” Clint asked, pausing to ball up the fake webbing in his hands. 

“She’s starting to get into it a bit more,” Bruce replied. As he stacked the string of lights into a plastic tote marked _HALLOWEEN,_ he went on. “She’s always liked flowers, but she’s starting to get more curious about the whole process of how a flower blooms and how it grows. I think I’m going to let her plant some vegetables in the back yard next year.”

Clint felt himself smile. “That’s sweet,” he said before he could stop himself. When Bruce glanced at him, Clint grinned and continued. “I think it’s great that you’re teaching her. My Pop hardly ever did anything like that when Barney or I showed an interest in something.”

Bruce ducked his head and kept working. “My Dad didn’t either,” he said softly in a subdued tone, “but my Mom would.” Clint saw a soft smile touch Bruce’s lips as the other man went on. “She let me help her in her garden when I was little, and my aunt let Jen and I have a corner of her vegetable garden when we were a little older.”

He paused to glance over at Clint again, his smile widening a little more. “So it makes me really happy that Chrissie is showing an interest. And it helps her try more vegetables when she actually sees how they’re grown.”

Clint laughed a little at that. “That’s a good way to encourage kids to eat their veggies,” he remarked. “What all are you growing in your back yard?”

They fell into an easy conversation about gardening, working side-by-side to clear away all of the Halloween decorations. Before long, they were both armed with a rake and moving all of the fallen leaves in the yard into a pile. There never seemed to be a lull in the conversation, and the yardwork hardly felt like a chore with the pleasant company. 

As the day progressed, the neighborhood started to wake up. Clint and Bruce would wave to the occasional neighbor that would walk by, either on a jog or on a walk with a dog or a stroller or the like. Across the street and a few houses down, a pair of siblings a few years older than Chrissie was riding bikes together. Another neighbor was mowing their lawn. 

Clint was thrilled that none of them seemed to mind that he had invaded the scene of domesticity. He hadn’t expected it, but he had been subjected to less than pleasant reactions to his sexuality in the past, so he was ready to welcome acceptance with open arms. 

By the time they finished raking all of the leaves, it was just past eleven thirty in the morning. They took a break and headed inside to rehydrate. 

As they stepped inside, Clint pulled off his jacket. “Don’t think I’ll be needing this anymore,” he remarked, draping his long-sleeved garment over the back of a chair at the dining table as they walked by into the kitchen, leaving him in his bright purple t-shirt that he had changed into that morning. “It’s warming up out there.”

“The days have been unseasonably warm this week,” Bruce replied conversationally as he poured two glasses of water. He shot Clint a wry little grin. “Just watch: we’ll have a night below freezing in the next two weeks.”

“I am not taking you up on that bet,” Clint shot back with a grin before taking a few sips of water. 

Before Bruce could reply, the sound of someone honking their car horn broke into the conversation. 

“That must be Tony and Pepper,” Bruce said, and Clint felt himself smile as Bruce’s face immediately brightened. God, the man was adorable.

Clint snagged Bruce’s hand and they went to the front door. 

They opened the door just in time to hear twin shrieks of joy as Chrissie and Sammie jumped head-first into the pile of leaves on the lawn. The warmth in Bruce’s laughter did things to Clint’s chest.

Tony, who was helping Pepper out of the car parked on the side of the street in front of the house, turned and waved at them. “Morning, fellas,” he called across the lawn.

Chrissie’s head instantly popped out of the pile of leaves, beaming in excitement. “Daddy!” she called, immediately beginning to scramble out of the leaves. Leaves stuck to her as she ran across the yard and up to her father. 

Bruce leaned down and scooped her up into his arms as she reached him. She shrieked with laughter as he did a quick spin before tugging her into an embrace. “Good morning, sweetheart,” Bruce said softly, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Chrissie answered, still grinning ecstatically. “We had pancakes for breakfast, and then we went to the movie theater and watched a movie about skeletons!” 

“That sounds like fun,” Bruce replied as he pulled a stray leaf out of her hair. 

“Skeletons?” Clint asked.

Chrissie gasped dramatically and reached out for him. “Clint!!” she yelled.

Unable to help it, Clint laughed and let Bruce pass her off to him so they could embrace. “Hey, kiddo,” he said. 

As they exchanged a hug, Tony and Pepper made their way across the yard. Tony looked appraisingly at the bare front of the house. “Does this mean it’s time for Christmas lights?” he asked with a smirk.

“Halloween was _yesterday,_ ” Bruce replied immediately, making Clint grin at how quick he was to answer. “Let’s get through Thanksgiving first.”

In his arms, Chrissie perked up. “Is Aunt Jenny going to come for Thanksgiving, Daddy?” she asked excitedly, wriggling a little for Clint to put her down.

“Maybe,” Bruce said as Chrissie briefly latched on to her father’s legs before taking off to rejoin Sammie in the leaf pile.

“It’ll be Christmas before you know it,” Tony went on.

Next to him, Pepper fondly rolled her eyes. “You just don’t want to think about Thanksgiving. We’re heading to my parents’ place for the holiday,” she explained to Clint.

“Tony doesn’t get along with his in-laws,” Bruce stage-whispered to Clint.

“Tony’s in-laws don’t get along with Tony,” Tony corrected his friend. “They’ve disliked me since we were dating.”

“They like you just fine,” Pepper replied reassuringly, “especially now that you’re helping them get grandkids.” She smiled and redirected her attention to Clint. “Do you know what your holiday plans are yet?”

“Um…not really, no,” Clint answered. Usually, he and his friends would get together and have a Thanksgiving of their own, since none of them really seemed to have families. He felt Bruce glance over at him. “But Thanksgiving isn’t for like another four weeks,” he went on with an easy shrug. “I’ve still got time to make plans.”

“Too true,” Tony replied, pulling out his phone to check the time. “Speaking of plans…” He looked over at Pepper.

She peeked at her husband’s phone. “We need to head out,” she said, looking back at Clint and Bruce. 

Chrissie ran back to them once Tony and Pepper had collected Sammie. The three of them waved as the car pulled away and back onto the street, honking as it went. Together, the three of them went inside to deposit Chrissie’s overnight bag and her Halloween costume, which was hanging neatly on a hanger. 

“Well, it’s just about noon,” Bruce said as he set his daughter’s belongings down on one of the dining room chairs. “Are you two getting hungry?”

“Yes,” Chrissie answered. “Can we have sandwiches?”

Bruce glanced over at Clint. “Are you alright with sandwiches?” he asked with a little smile.

“Sure,” Clint replied, “if it isn’t any trouble.”

Bruce gave him a look. “After making breakfast and helping me with chores this morning, the least I can do is make you lunch,” he said drolly, which brought a grin to Clint’s face. Bruce turned his attention then to Chrissie. “Want to see if there are any more tomatoes down in the garden?” he asked, smiling again.

Chrissie immediately beamed and turned to look up at Clint. “Wanna come with me?” she asked in excitement.

Clint suddenly understood Bruce’s smile; she didn’t know Lucky was out back. “Absolutely,” he replied. He let himself be dragged through the kitchen toward the door to the basement. When he glanced over his shoulder, he caught Bruce’s knowing little smile and immediately felt something in his chest warm up.

Hand-in-hand, Clint and Chrissie went down the stairs to the basement and raced to the sliding door that opened to the backyard. All-the-while, Chrissie was telling him about the garden and some of the things they had harvested over the summer.

“…and then Daddy put the cucumber pieces into water, like ice cubes!” Chrissie was saying as she slid the door shut behind them. “It looked _really_ funny, but it was yummy! And _then_ we— _Lucky!!”_

Clint couldn’t help but laugh as Chrissie raced up to his dog, who had wandered up the hill at the sound of company. Chrissie threw her arms around Lucky’s neck and gave him a fierce hug. 

“Such a happy puppy,” Chrissie said gleefully as she stepped back to give Lucky’s ears some loving attention. 

“He’s a very happy puppy today,” Clint agreed, watching Lucky’s tail wag rapidly. “He normally doesn’t get to run around freely like this.”

Chrissie turned to smile brightly up at Clint for a moment before she ruffled Lucky’s ears again. “You’re the most happy puppy today!” 

Clint laughed again and glanced down the hill where the little garden stood. “How about we go grab that tomato for your dad?” he prompted.

They stepped carefully down the hill, Clint keeping a mindful eye on the little girl lest she fall and Lucky trotting happily along behind them. 

The garden, up close, was a tidy and quaint little thing, but as it was the very beginning of November, there wasn’t much left to harvest. The tomato plant, however, was still green and leafy, and dangling from one of its vines was a plump, ripe tomato.

Clint lifted the chicken wire over the garden and let Chrissie slip through to pluck the tomato from the vine. She did so carefully and held the fruit delicately as she climbed back out of the garden. “This is the last one,” she said, looking down at the thing a little sadly.

“At least until next spring or summer,” Clint replied. 

Chrissie grinned up at him as they made their way back up the hill. “Daddy says I can plant something back here next year,” she said. 

“Yeah, he was telling me earlier, when we were admiring the flowers out front,” Clint said. “Did you help him plant those? They’re lovely.”

Chrissie’s little chest puffed out with pride. “Daddy let me pick which ones we planted. We had these _really_ pretty purple ones that we planted together. They looked even prettier when it was still hot outside.”

Before they walked back inside, Chrissie pet Lucky a few more times and Clint checked the bowl Bruce had brought out earlier to make sure the dog still had some water. Then they trekked back inside and up the stairs back to the kitchen, where Bruce was standing at the counter.

Bruce glanced over his shoulder when the basement door opened and a smile overtook his features when Chrissie raced up to him.

“Daddy, Lucky’s here!” the little girl told him eagerly.

“Is he?” Bruce replied.

Chrissie’s head bobbed up and down before she handed her dad the tomato. “This is the last one,” she said.

“Thank you,” Bruce said as he took the tomato. “We can start getting the garden prepped for the winter next weekend, maybe.”

As Bruce washed the tomato, Chrissie bounced eagerly in place. “Could Clint help, too?” she asked, staring pleadingly up at her dad.

“I’m fine with that,” Bruce replied with a smile, opening a drawer to pull out a knife, “but you should really ask Clint.”

Chrissie whirled around to Clint, who was pulling down glasses to get them all drinks; he didn’t want to just stand idly by as Bruce did all the work. Before she could repeat her question, Clint smiled. “I’d be happy to help,” he answered.

As Chrissie’s face split into an enormous grin, Bruce started slicing the tomato. “But that’s next weekend,” he said, pausing briefly to smile down at his daughter. “Let’s not rush ahead to next weekend just yet.” There was a knowing lilt to his voice that made Clint grin quietly to himself.

“Are we doing something today?” Chrissie asked, turning her eager eyes back to her father.

Bruce only hummed in amusement and mystery as he kept preparing their lunch. 

Together, the three of them ate their sandwiches in a homey peace that Clint reveled in. Chrissie told them about her night with Sammie, and she delighted in hearing about the Halloween party Bruce and Clint had gone to. She giggled gleefully when Clint showed her a picture he had gotten of Darcy and Natasha in costume.

After they had finished eating and Bruce was cleaning up, he glanced over his shoulder at Chrissie. “Sweetie, do you want to go ahead and unpack your backpack so it’s nice and ready for school tomorrow?”

The little girl peered over at her backpack, which was still sitting on one of the dining table chairs on the other side of the table. She looked back at her dad, reluctance clear on her face.

Bruce raised his eyebrows and smiled, and good god, no man should ever look that adorable. “Please?” he added.

It was a wonder where Chrissie had learned the look, for she clearly couldn’t say no to that face. “Okay,” she said, hopping down from her chair.

Once she had her backpack and had wandered down the hall to her room, Clint turned an impressed look over at Bruce. Bruce met his eyes, smiling innocently. “Shall we start setting up?” Bruce asked softly as he came to Clint’s side.

Clint grinned and wrapped his arms around Bruce. “She’s going to be trouble in a few years, and she’s going to learn it all from you,” he replied.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bruce replied evenly, though he still looked pleased.

Together, they snuck to the living room and grabbed the tie-dye kit from Clint’s bag and started getting everything set up. While Clint started to soak the white t-shirts he had purchased in some soda ash and warm water, Bruce laid out the clear plastic sheet that came in the kit. 

They were just setting the bottles on the table when Chrissie trotted back into the dining room. “All done—what’s that?” she asked eagerly, climbing up onto a chair and getting up on her knees to look at the things laid out on the table.

Clint and Bruce traded a look before Bruce smiled and gestured for him to explain. Clint grinned and looked back at Chrissie. “Remember a few weeks ago when we gave that princess a rainbow dress?” he asked.

That was all it took.

Chrissie’s eyes immediately got wide and she gasped in delight. “Is this tie-dye?!” she just about shouted in her excitement.

“This is tie-dye,” Clint answered, grinning again as Chrissie started to bounce a little in her chair. “Now, we have five shirts for you to design, so start thinking about which colors you—”

“ _All_ the colors,” she said fervently. “And purple. _Lots_ of purple.”

Clint laughed. “A lady after my own heart,” he said fondly as Bruce huffed a laugh.

As Bruce sat down next to her with the instructions to show her some of the different patterns to choose from, Clint got up to wring out the shirts. When he heard a note of distraction in Bruce’s voice, Clint glanced over to find Bruce eyeing him. When he realized that Bruce was staring at his arms, namely how his muscles flexed as he wrung out the water from the fabric, a feeling of satisfaction went through him and he smirked suggestively. He immediately grinned when Bruce blushed.

Once they had all of the damp shirts in a laundry basket next to the table, they got to work. Chrissie watched Bruce and Clint twist one of her shirts into a spiral and loop three rubber bands around it to keep its form. She tried to do a twist next, and then enlisted the help of Clint when it came out too loose. The next two she crumpled and added ten rubber bands, and she grinned at the lumpy mess once she was done. 

The hardest one was the design that would make a heart, but once it was folded, Clint had a feeling that it would come out rather nicely.

Bruce and Clint also had a shirt to do, in which they both picked the spiral design.

Once the shirts were ready and properly rubber-banded, they all donned a pair of plastic gloves and broke out the dye. They followed Chrissie’s precise instructions as they did her crumpled ones first, adding purple dye with a hint of blue to the first, and pink and yellow to the second. The swirls were next, in which they did a rainbow on one and the other in alternating patterns of purple and green.

“They’re gonna be _so_ pretty,” Chrissie breathed in reverence as she watched Bruce put her shirts into separate zip-lock bags to settle overnight. “When can I wear them?”

“Probably Tuesday,” Bruce replied with an endearing little smile that made Clint’s heart melt a little. “They’ll need to be washed before they’re ready to be worn.”

The shirt with the heart design was tricky; they had to set the shirt on a rack over the sink and dye it like that. The portion that would become the heart was dyed red at Chrissie’s request, and the rest of the shirt was dyed purple and blue. 

Once all of Chrissie’s shirts were placed in zip-lock baggies for rest overnight, they moved on to the adult t-shirts. Clint chose the purple dye and dyed part of his shirt with that, and for the rest of it, he created different shades of purple, much to Chrissie’s delight. Bruce’s they dyed three different colors: purple, blue, and green. These shirts were also put into zip-lock bags to settle overnight. 

As Bruce and Clint started cleaning up, Chrissie’s content eyes were on the zip-lock bags lying along the counter. “That was so much fun!” she proclaimed happily before turning eagerly to the two men. “What now?”

Clint saw Bruce glance at the clock on the oven and remembered that he had some work he needed to get done. A quick look at the time showed that it was edging toward two thirty.

“Well,” Bruce began, glancing back at Chrissie.

Clint looked at the little girl. “I have to feed Lucky, if you wanted to help me with that,” he suggested with a smile. 

Chrissie immediately broke into a grin and she hopped down from her chair. “Can I, Daddy?” she asked.

Bruce, of course, smiled. “Sure,” he replied.

As Chrissie scurried off to put her shoes on, Clint turned and looked at Bruce. “I know you have some things to grade, so I can keep an eye on her for a little bit,” he offered softly, standing up.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked. He followed along after Clint as he went to the living room to grab the bag of dog food he had brought along with him.

Clint grinned. “Of course I’m sure,” he replied. “Chrissie and I get along great. We’ll probably just play with Lucky, and I saw a soccer ball out back earlier that we can play with. How long do you think you’ll be?”

“No more than an hour and a half, I think,” Bruce said as Chrissie came running back into the room, now wearing her shoes. 

As Chrissie grabbed Clint’s hand, Clint allowed himself to be dragged toward the basement door. He shot Bruce a bright smile. “Don’t work too hard!” he said. “Come out and play with us when you’re done!”

A gorgeous little laugh escaped from Bruce. “I will,” he said, laughter in his words. Clint could have stared at that smiling face for hours, but he followed along after Chrissie down the stairs.

==

“Goal!” Clint belted out. Across the yard, Chrissie promptly dissolved into giggles.

They were out front, set up in front of some bushes on the side of the yard that were acting as a goalpost for their impromptu game of soccer. In the time they had been inside from lunch to the end of their arts and crafts fair, the sun had been blotted out by heavy looking clouds. A lot of the neighbors that had been active earlier that morning had already retreated back inside, but as it hadn’t started raining yet, Clint and Chrissie were still out, enjoying the fresh air.

Clint collapsed to the ground in melodramatic defeat, which set Chrissie off again. “How are you so good at soccer?” he asked as she ran up to him.

“I’m good at everything,” Chrissie replied brilliantly, plopping down on the ground next to him as he snorted a laugh. She let out an _oof_ as she landed on her back to look up at the clouds rolling over them. 

They stayed like that for a lingering time, just looking up at the low, grey clouds. For the past hour, they had been inseparable. After feeding Lucky, the pair had wandered down to the fence at the edge of the back yard, where they could look at the little creek on the other side. From there, they had moved to the front, where they had played with the assortment of outdoor toys Chrissie had at her disposal.

A stray breeze washed over them. Clint watched as a few of the remaining leaves on the big tree in the front yard were blown loose and fluttered listlessly to the grass. Next to him, Chrissie shivered a little.

“Ready to go inside?” Clint asked, lobbing his head to the side so he could look at the little girl.

“No,” Chrissie said, though she made no move to get up.

“But it looks like it’s going to rain,” he pointed out.

A smile touched Chrissie’s lips. “Rain makes trees grow and flowers bloom,” she informed him. “Rain is good.”

A huff of amused laughter escaped from Clint. “Yeah, it is,” he replied. He got up and looked down at Chrissie, who was still sprawled out on the grass. “But it isn’t if you don’t want to get sick.”

Chrissie wrinkled her nose and took the hand Clint offered and got to her feet.

Between their spot in the front yard to the front door, Clint could feel it was starting to sprinkle. They walked inside. 

From the entryway, there was a view past the openings to the living room and hallway to a portion of the dining table. Clint could see some folders and loose papers littering the surface, along with an open laptop. Slightly obscured by both the doorway and the laptop was Bruce, who had looked up from his work at the sound of the closing door.

Clint grinned as Bruce lowered the screen of his laptop and shifted a little so he could see them better. “Did you two have fun?” Bruce asked as a smile overtook his features.

“Yeah,” Chrissie answered, running into the dining room and hopping up onto a chair, “but it’s starting to rain.”

Bruce’s gaze went to Clint, who had followed Chrissie into the dining room at a more sedate pace. “Let’s go get Lucky,” he said, slipping off his reading glasses.

“You don’t mind him being in the house?” Clint asked as Bruce abandoned his work and stood up.

Pausing as he was about to walk by, Bruce turned curious eyes toward Clint. “Does he have fleas?”

“Of course not,” Clint replied.

A smile appeared on Bruce’s face. “Then I really don’t mind him being in the house,” he replied. As he passed by to walk into the hallway, he trailed a reassuring hand along Clint’s hip and lower back. The touch made Clint’s stomach flip in his core.

After Bruce reappeared with a beach towel, the three of them hurried downstairs to the sliding door that led out back. It wasn’t raining heavily yet, thankfully, so when Clint called Lucky up to the door, the dog only appeared a little damp and not completely soaked. 

“Come here, Luck,” Clint said again, beckoning the dog inside and onto the tiled floor on the inside of the door. He took the towel from Bruce and began to rub the fur dry, grinning in gratitude as Bruce knelt down to help.

“Poor puppy,” Chrissie said in a sad tone, reaching up to pat the dog’s damp face. “Is he gonna get sick?” she asked Clint.

The worry on the little girl’s face was heartbreaking, but Clint felt himself smile. “Not if we get him dried off quickly,” he replied. He then offered Chrissie a corner of the towel, which she eagerly took and began gently rubbing his dog’s face.

Lucky didn’t seem to be bothered by the towel; judging from how his tail was wagging, he was obviously enjoying the attention.

Once he was deemed dry and free of mud, the four of them went back upstairs. Chrissie insisted on showing Lucky around the house, and a moment later, she and the dog had disappeared around the corner, leaving Bruce and Clint standing in the kitchen.

Clint looked away from where Chrissie and Lucky had disappeared to when he felt Bruce’s arm snake around his back and a hand rest on his hip. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, nor did he stop his arm from doing the same to Bruce. 

“Thank you for keeping an eye on her,” Bruce said softly. 

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” Clint replied, giving Bruce a small squeeze of reassurance. “We had fun; we just played soccer for a while after visiting with Lucky in the back—”

He trailed off when a gust of wind smacked some of the heavily falling raindrops against the window over the sink. They both glanced outside and saw that it was now pouring.

“Looks like we got Lucky inside just in time,” Bruce mused in a serious tone that made Clint snort a laugh. 

“Clearly,” Clint replied before tugging Bruce closer so he could wrap his other arm around him, giving him a long embrace. “Did you get all your work done?” he asked, smiling happily as he felt Bruce’s arms settle around him.

“Almost,” Bruce answered as he glanced back at the table, where his paperwork and laptop were still sitting. “I just have two more essays to grade, and then I have to enter all of them to Blackboard.” As a sigh escaped from him, he settled his head on Clint’s shoulder. “A lot of my classes have exams coming up this week and next, and they’re starting to panic because it’s a little over a month until finals.”

“Sounds like the next few weeks are gonna be busy,” Clint mused, tracing one of his hands over Bruce’s back.

“It’s a good busy,” Bruce replied reassuringly. When they drew back, there was a smile on his face. “It should only take me another twenty minutes to finish getting through the essays.”

Before Clint could respond, Chrissie came rocketing around the corner. “Daddy, can me and Lucky watch TV?!” she asked all in one breath.

The sound of Bruce’s small huff of laughter made Clint grin involuntarily. “Of course, sweetheart,” Bruce answered. “Let’s get you and Lucky set up.”

Once Chrissie had decided on what looked to be a documentary about the ocean, she and Lucky laid out on the floor to watch. Clint settled on the sofa and grinned up at Bruce before shooing him off to go finish his work. The look of gratitude Bruce gave him made his chest warm up.

_Thank you,_ Bruce mouthed to him.

Clint only smiled and got comfortable on the couch as Bruce wandered off to go keep working.

Twenty-five minutes later, the rain was still coming down strong and the narrator of the documentary had gone silent to let the audience listen to whales singing to one another. Down on the floor, Lucky had fallen asleep and Chrissie looked like she was nodding off. Between the serene documentary and the rain outside, Clint could feel himself starting to get drowsy. 

He blinked from the lethargic state he had fallen into when Bruce came quietly into the room, his laptop tucked under one arm and a thick stack of papers in his other. A smile crept to his features as Bruce sat down on the couch next to him. 

“All finished?” Clint asked in a low voice.

“Just need to enter grades and then I’m done,” Bruce replied softly, smiling as Clint threw an arm over his shoulders. He happily cozied up against Clint, curling up in the warm space under his arm and against his body. “Do you need anything?” he asked suddenly.

“You’re not allowed to get up,” Clint replied in an instant, leaning his head against Bruce’s. “I just got comfy; you can’t leave now.”

The low laughter that came from Bruce made Clint’s whole body grow delightfully warm and he pulled Bruce a little closer.

As Bruce opened his laptop and started inputting grades, Clint focused not on the documentary, but on the wonderfully domestic feeling the whole day had given him. Here he was, curled up on a sofa in the dim afternoon light, listening to the television and the rain and the deep breathing from the sleeping pair on the floor and the quick clicking of Bruce’s keyboard. He had spent the day doing chores with Bruce and playing soccer with Chrissie and then doing arts and crafts with the both of them. He had never thought something like this could make him feel so content. 

He felt a smile cross his lips and he tipped his head just slightly to press a warm kiss against Bruce’s temple. 

Bruce didn’t look up from what he was doing, but a warm smile crept across his face and he curled a little more against Clint.

And so the afternoon progressed, and Clint thought couldn’t be happier. 

As the ocean documentary ended and one about rainforests started, Bruce set aside his finished work and curled closer to Clint. Clint knew a sappy smile appeared on his face, but he hardly cared. 

Snuggled together on the sofa, listening to the rain come down and focused on the warmth shared between them, Clint realized he had been wrong. _Now_ he couldn’t be happier.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you kept this,” Clint said with a widening grin as he reached into a cardboard box. He saw Natasha glance over in time for him to pull out a string of garish spider Halloween lights that he had given to her over a year ago.

He turned his bright smile over at Natasha, who was eyeing the lights with distaste clearly written on her face. “Those can go in the _donate_ pile,” she deadpanned, though her lip twitched a little when Clint barked a laugh.

It was Saturday afternoon, after his archery class. Somehow or another, Natasha had enlisted Clint’s help in clearing out her basement. It was a ritual they did every few years: clear out the accumulated junk she had acquired over months of gag-gifts, let the junk build up again, rinse, lather, and repeat.

They had been at it for about two hours straight, working diligently in an effort to get everything done before the thrift shop they donated everything to closed for the day. 

“That should be the last of it,” Natasha announced a few minutes later as she tossed the last few things into a garbage bag to be placed out on the curb. “Not as much this time around,” she said, looking at the three boxes they had filled for donations.

“That just means me and the rest of our friends have been slacking,” Clint said. “I promise to buy you something awful for Thanksgiving.”

“You know it’ll just end up on the shelf of a thrift store in a year or two,” Natasha replied. 

“Ah,” Clint said sagely as he accepted a box from Natasha, “but you don’t know for sure if what we give you came from the shelf of a thrift store in the first place.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or disgusted that you go through such lengths to find me this garbage,” Natasha said before leading the way up the steps with a box of her own.

Clint only grinned and followed.

They loaded up her car with the things they were taking to the thrift store and placed the bags of trash out by the cans. He hopped into the passenger seat as Natasha started the car.

It was a quick trip to the thrift store and they made it just in time before closing. 

As they were getting back in the car to head back, Natasha glanced over at him. “Do you have time to stop somewhere for a quick coffee?” 

Clint checked the time: 5:06 PM. “Raincheck,” he replied, buckling in as he felt himself smile a little. “I’m meeting up with Bruce at seven and need to clean my place up a little.”

When he glanced over, he found Natasha watching him with a soft look on her face. When he quirked an eyebrow at her, a tiny smile touched her lips and she pulled her car back onto the road to head back to her place. “It’s good to see you like this again,” she said.

“Like what?” Clint asked.

“Happier,” she replied, glancing away briefly from the road to look at him again. “Things are going well with Bruce?”

Things had been going very well with Bruce; they were seeing each other almost daily now, be it coffee dates during the day in between their busy schedules, or for dinner after work. Things were progressing slowly, but they were progressing.

“Things are good,” he finally answered with a nod. “We’re still taking it slow, but things are actually really…really nice,” he admitted as a smile rose unbidden to his lips. “We’re doing a dinner and movie night tonight. I’m taking him to that really awesome Italian place close to my apartment, and then I’m showing him _Galaxy Quest_ —He’s never seen it!” he exclaimed when Natasha snorted a laugh into the steering wheel. “He’s the biggest nerd I’ve ever met, and he hasn’t seen it! It’s right up his alley. He’ll love it.”

“Sounds like a romantic evening,” Natasha said with a smile. 

“Hey, I’m great at romance,” Clint shot back, grinning. 

They made it back to Natasha’s house. “Well, good luck tonight,” Natasha said with a knowing little smile on her face as she headed toward her front door. “Have fun.”

Clint only smiled and waved as he walked to his car. 

He knew what that knowing look on her face had implied. They hadn’t moved past kissing yet, which was absolutely fine, but Clint was hoping that they’d be able to reach that next level of intimacy soon. They had been moving slow, but they had gotten comfortable with each other, so he had high hopes for that night.

==

“…and it was a good thing Sam was sitting right there to save the cake, because I have never face-planted a table so hard in my life,” Clint concluded, and promptly grinned when Bruce started to crack up mid-sip of his water.

Dinner so far had been going off without a hitch. Bruce had arrived at Clint’s apartment just a few minutes before seven, bundled up against the November chill that had settled over the city two weeks ago. Hand-in-hand, they had walked to the Italian restaurant, where Clint regaled him with some of his adventures in cleaning out Natasha’s basement, which ultimately led to other stories of him with his friends. A story from Bruce about one of his experiences with Tony made Clint choke on a piece of pasta in his fit of laughter.

By the time they had finished their meal and had wandered back outside, they were both a little giddy from laughter and great company. The temperature had dropped even further during the meal, so they walked back to Clint’s apartment complex with their hands tucked safely in their pockets and their shoulders brushing. Winter was finally here to stay, and Clint watched as their shared laughter came out in little white clouds against the frigid air.

“Where did you even find lights like that?” Bruce asked as Clint finished telling the story about the spider lights he had unearthed today in Natasha’s basement. They walked up the front steps together.

Clint turned a smile over at Bruce and lightly bumped shoulders with him. “You’d be amazed at what you can find with a boatload of time at a thrift store.”

Once they were inside, their hands immediately came together with the sort of ease that made Clint grin quietly to himself. He led them up the flights of stairs to his apartment. 

As they were shedding their coats and other winter things, he spotted Bruce glancing around at the noticeably cleaner apartment. “I still had cleaning fever when I got back from Tasha’s,” Clint explained before leaning in to steal a kiss. “Now, get comfy, because you’re gonna _love_ this movie.”

“You keep saying that,” Bruce mused with a pleasant hum against Clint’s lips.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen it,” Clint said, moving toward the kitchen to get them both a glass of water. 

A short minute later, they were settled on the sofa, curled up together in a way that made Clint’s stomach somersault with pleasure. He started the movie.

As the opening scene was playing, Clint felt Bruce’s fingers begin to play absently with the hair on the back of his neck, and Clint all but melted against Bruce with a hum of bliss. He tipped his head just enough to press a soft kiss against Bruce’s throat, delighting in the little shiver he felt run through his boyfriend’s body. 

With a grin, Clint did it again and again, absolutely loving the way he could hear Bruce’s shuddery exhales and how his fingers carded more into his hair. Finally, Bruce lightly tugged on Clint’s hair to bring them face to face, and _god,_ that made something in his gut immediately flare with heat. 

Together, they turned toward each other and their lips properly met. Hands roamed as they continued kissing, things slowly getting more and more heated.

They ended up lying across the couch with Clint happily beneath Bruce’s body as Clint’s hands eagerly roamed across the planes of his boyfriend’s back while they continued to kiss each other breathless. Clint’s hands wandered on their own accord, trailing along Bruce’s shoulders and down his back, curling into the fabric of his shirt when Bruce did something with his tongue that made him groan helplessly. He pulled at the shirt, tugging the shirttails from where they were tucked into his waistband.

His fingers on one hand met the hot, naked skin of the small of Bruce’s back, and the other moved further down, and—

Bruce drew a sharp breath in through his nose and broke the kiss.

Panicked, Clint withdrew his hands and held them up like little flags of surrender. His eyes instantly darted open and he looked up at Bruce. “Sorry,” he whispered hurriedly. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked—”

“No, no,” Bruce cut in hastily, propping himself up so he could look down at Clint. His lips were red and wet and his hair was ruffled and there was a _gorgeous_ flush along his cheeks. His pupils were blown, the black almost drowning out the brown of his eyes. 

He’d have been the hottest thing Clint had ever seen, but the nervousness plainly visible on his face turned any lust in Clint’s gut into terror and shame.

They stared at one another for a moment, both still pressed flush against one another and both apologetic.

Bruce finally swallowed and closed his eyes, ducking his head just a little. “I—I’m sorry, but—”

“Please don’t apologize,” Clint breathed.

A smile touched Bruce’s lips and he met Clint’s eyes and went on. “It’s been a…a long time since I’ve been with someone like that,” he explained, embarrassed. “I—I’m not sure I’m ready yet. I’m sorry.”

Clint made a pained sound in his throat. “Bruce, don’t be sorry for that,” he pleaded. “I want to be sure we’re both ready to take that step together. I’m sorry I made you nervous, but I promise nothing like that will happen without you being 110% on board with it. I just…tend to get handsy in the heat of the moment.”

Bruce smiled a little at that. “It surprised me more than anything,” he admitted.

“Good surprised or bad?” Clint asked cautiously.

“Well, not that I know we’re taking our time, good,” Bruce answered before pressing a peck of a kiss against Clint’s lips.

Clint grinned brightly and let his hands slowly return to Bruce’s back as Bruce settled gently over him again.

They didn’t pick up where they had left off. Instead, they cozied back up against each other, wrapped up in each other’s arms and acceptance and content to just share the warmth between them. The movie was still playing on the TV, but neither of them paid it any mind.

Finally, Clint glanced down at Bruce. “Can…can I ask something?”

“Of course,” Bruce replied without lifting his head from where it was resting on Clint’s chest.

Clint lightly drummed his fingers along Bruce’s back and drew a breath to speak before he lost his nerve. “Have you ever slept with another man?”

Bruce was quiet for a long moment, and Clint waited with bated breath, ready to jump in and steal back his question in the hopes that he hadn’t ruined their evening. 

Before he could, though, Bruce spoke. “No,” he answered. “This is actually the longest I’ve ever dated another man, and it’s been _years_ since the last time.” He shifted a little, but quickly settled again. “We…we had never really gone past kissing. He wanted to, but I was hesitant. It didn’t last long because of that.”

“Dude missed out,” Clint replied with a soft smile, letting his arms resettle around Bruce. He remained quiet for another moment. “Does it make you nervous?”

“Taking that step in any relationship always makes me nervous,” Bruce said. 

“It’s usually like that for me, too,” Clint admitted, letting his eyes go to the ceiling. “Not so much with my last relationship, though—if you can really call it that.”

“What happened?” Bruce asked.

Clint’s fingers began to absently trace nonsense patterns along Bruce’s back. “We wanted different things in the end,” he said after a beat. “It had just been a friends-with-benefits thing at the beginning, but feelings got involved. I told her how I felt, and she was quick to turn me down, and that was the end of our friendship. It was for the best.”

“How long ago was that?” Bruce asked, sounding curious. “Maybe she just needed some time apart to miss your friendship.”

“We split up back in January,” Clint replied quietly.

“Oh.” Bruce was silent for a heartbeat. “Well, she missed out, then.”

A smile touched Clint’s lips. “A good thing for both of us,” he agreed, tipping his head to plant a kiss against Bruce’s curls as Bruce hummed in agreement.

They settled more comfortably against one another after that, letting the sound of the movie neither of them were paying attention to wash over them. 

Clint was contemplating turning off the TV altogether when Bruce spoke up again. “How long ago was your last serious relationship?” he asked quietly out of the blue.

Clint drew a long breath in as he thought back. Only one partner came to mind. “The only serious relationship I’ve ever had was in college,” he said. “Phil and I were both students at the time, but we were always heading in different directions. Right around graduation, we decided it was probably better we stay friends, so it ended…four? Five years ago?” Clint still remembered the day and the heartache. “We had been together for two and a half years. We still email from time to time.”

Bruce was quiet, but the hush didn’t make Clint nervous. This was actually something he had never really done before with prior partners. It was a little weird to be discussing past relationships with his current boyfriend, but they had both changed since their last serious relationships, as all people do. You learn and grow.

Before he got a chance to pose the same question to Bruce, the other man spoke up again. “Does it make you…I don’t know, _uneasy_ that I’ve never had a serious boyfriend before?”

“No way,” Clint immediately replied. “It just means I’ll be the one who actually has experience with something. Plus, it means I get to be a _lot_ of firsts.”

“No pressure or anything,” Bruce joked lightly.

Clint laughed and stroked his hands along Bruce’s back, loving the way Bruce seemed to settle more comfortably against his body. “We’ll take it slow, babe,” he said. He could feel Bruce smile against his chest at the pet name and grinned himself. “There’s no rush to get to something we’re not ready for.”

As he felt the body against his sag a little more with relief, Clint’s hands went still. “What about you? I mean, how long did your thing with her last?” He didn’t need to elaborate who.

Bruce was quiet for a moment before he drew a breath. “About ten years, off and on.”

Clint let out an impressed whistle.

“We studied in the same program,” Bruce explained quietly. “She’s absolutely brilliant, and we worked together on a lot of different projects. It seemed great at the time, but I—We wanted different things.” Whether he was aware he had borrowed the phrase from Clint’s own story was unknown. “She was still working toward her doctorate when we found out we were having a baby. We…we had actually finally picked a wedding date not long before we found out.”

Clint stared up at the ceiling. He had known Bruce had been engaged to this woman ever since Tony had let it slip, but it was different to hear it from Bruce himself. “That’s pretty serious,” he said.

“Yeah,” Bruce replied softly, like a sigh.

Another hush fell over them—more somber than comfortable this time—and a sound from the movie turned their attention to the TV. 

After about a minute, he more felt than heard Bruce huff a laugh. “I’m completely lost,” Bruce admitted.

Clint couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you want to restart it?”

“Nah,” Bruce answered, shifting just enough to press a kiss against the bare skin along Clint’s throat. “I kind of like what we’re doing now.”

“Kind of?” Clint asked, a grin playing across his lips.

Bruce only huffed another little laugh and curled a little more against Clint, and Clint could do nothing more than happily pull him closer.

They spent their evening cuddled together on Clint’s sofa. They alternated between swapping stories about their pasts and swapping tender kisses. Even long after the ignored movie had ended and the credits had turned back into the DVD title screen, they stayed together. It hadn’t been quite what Clint had had in mind for their date night, but he really… _really_ liked how the night had turned out.

A little before midnight, though, a reluctant sigh escaped from Bruce, and Clint knew their evening had come to an end.

“You know you’re welcome to stay the night,” Clint offered quietly. “It’d just be sleeping together. Or not sleeping _together_ together, but—y’know. Sleeping. _Together._ ”

Bruce chuckled and silenced Clint’s rambling with a sweet, lingering kiss. “I really can’t,” he replied reluctantly. “I need to be up early to pick up Chrissie from Tony and Pepper’s place before they leave for their flight, and I know if I stay, I won’t want to leave.”

“That’s a good problem to have,” Clint said with a half-grin even as he let his arms open so Bruce could sit up. “They’re flying out for Thanksgiving pretty early.”

“The private school Sam is enrolled at lets them have the whole week, so they’re spending the whole break out west,” Bruce replied as they both resettled properly on the sofa, sitting a little closer to each other than they normally would have in the past. “Give the grandparents a chance to visit with their only grandchild for the moment, you know.”

Clint only hummed and began to lightly play with Bruce’s hair. “And when does Jen get in?”

“Monday,” Bruce said, “so I need tomorrow to get the place ready.”

As Bruce got up to go get his shoes, Clint stretched on the sofa. “I can’t believe it’s already almost Thanksgiving,” he said as he relaxed back against the cushions again. “What happened to November?”

Bruce hesitated for a moment before abandoning his shoes to wander back over to the sofa. “Have you… Do you know what you’re doing for Thanksgiving?” he asked softly. It was a question he had asked a few times in the past few weeks since Halloween.

It was a question that made Clint exhale slowly. He had told Bruce about the tradition he and his friends tried to do every year, but the closer to Thanksgiving they got, the less likely it seemed it was going to happen this year. Sam was headed to his grandmother’s place in DC. Thor and Jane were spending the holiday with his family out of the country. Steve and Bucky were actually invited to Thanksgiving with Bucky’s sister upstate. Even Darcy had been invited home in a surprising turn of events. 

It looked like this year it was only going to be Clint and Natasha in town for the holiday. And each time it was brought up, Bruce let Clint know that he’d be more than welcome at the Banner house. 

But he hated the thought of Natasha spending Thanksgiving alone.

“I’m still not 100% sure what the plan is,” Clint admitted at last. “I don’t know if I can make it for the whole day, but I definitely want to swing by.”

“You know you’re always welcome there, Clint,” Bruce said with the same soft smile that always made something in Clint’s chest melt a little.

Clint couldn’t help but smile as he got to his feet so he could properly look at his boyfriend. “And you’re always welcome here,” he replied. “I just don’t want Tasha to spend the holiday by herself. All of our other friends sound like they’re going out of town.”

A thoughtful expression crossed Bruce’s face. “Would she feel awkward if she were invited to my place, too?” 

A beat of silence passed as Clint felt his brow furrow. “To your…” Surprise immediately shot through him. “Bruce, you don’t have to do that—”

“She’d be more than welcome, Clint,” Bruce cut in with a disarming little smile. “No one should have to spend the holiday alone. Plus it’d be a great chance to get to know her a little more. I know you two are really close.”

Clint’s eyes locked with Bruce’s, searching for some hint of uncertainty. When he couldn’t find any, an unsure smile crept to Clint’s face. “You’re…you’re serious.”

“Of course I am,” Bruce replied. “I mean, you’re both welcome to do whatever you’d like, but if you’d both like to, I’d love to have you over. I just don’t want her to feel, I don’t know, awkward or something.”

“Natasha doesn’t do awkward,” Clint replied with a growing smile before engulfing Bruce in an enormous hug. “You’re seriously the best, you know that?” 

Bruce ducked his head as he flushed. “I’m really not,” he said even as he returned the embrace.

“I ask her first thing tomorrow—er, today,” Clint amended when he saw it was just past midnight.

Bruce glanced down at his watch as Clint released him from his arms. “I really need to head out,” he said half-heartedly. He looked back at Clint, brown eyes apologetic. “You’ll let me know what she says?”

“As soon as I hear,” Clint replied, grinning brightly before planting a long kiss against Bruce’s mouth. “Anything you’d like me to bring? I’m told I make mean mashed potatoes.”

A huff of laughter escaped from Bruce. “You’re more than welcome to bring your mashed potatoes, but your presence is enough.”

“I’m bringing mashed potatoes,” Clint said against Bruce’s lips. “And Natasha.”

After sharing another long, lingering kiss, Clint walked Bruce down the steps and to his car. It was freezing outside and as soon as Bruce’s taillights disappeared around the corner, Clint hightailed it back inside.

Once he was safely back in the warmth of his apartment and winding down for the night, he plucked up his phone and opened a new text. 

**_Me: you up for thanksgiving with the banners?_ **

==

“Are you sure we didn’t need to bring anything else?” Natasha asked as they walked up the front steps.

“Nah,” Clint replied, ringing the doorbell before untangling Lucky’s leash from around his legs and glancing over at Natasha, “he’s going to say we brought too much already.”

It hadn’t taken much convincing on Clint’s part to get Natasha to agree to come with him to his boyfriend’s place for Thanksgiving dinner. The initial resistance had been borne out of a desire not to intrude, but once Clint had explained that it had been Bruce’s idea and that the invitation wasn’t out of pity, she had agreed. He knew she was interested in getting to know Bruce a little more. Even though she had met him before Clint, they really weren’t close. 

It touched Clint that she was willing to get to know Bruce better. She knew this was important to him, and the thought made him want to grin.

Once it had been established that they were both going to the Banner household for dinner, she had declared that she was making the broccoli casserole she made every Thanksgiving, and that was that.

Now, they stood on his boyfriend’s stoop with their hands full, waiting for someone to answer the door. They both perked up at the sound of the turning doorknob.

Jennifer Walters opened the door and immediately broke into a grin. “Clint Barton!” She pulled him into a hug before he knew what was happening. “It’s good to see you again! We’re so glad you could make it.”

As Jennifer stepped back, Clint gestured over at Natasha with the dish of mashed potatoes he was holding. “Jennifer, this is Natasha Romanoff, my friend and colleague.”

“Yeah, Bruce said you’d be coming,” Jennifer said with a smile. “You teach Chrissie’s gymnastics class.”

“I do,” Natasha replied with a little smile. “Thanks for having us over.”

“Absolutely!” Jennifer said, smiling brightly at them before glancing down at Lucky. “And you brought a dog!” 

“That’s Lucky,” Clint said. He grinned as Bruce’s cousin scratched behind his dog’s ears, resulting in said dog’s tail hitting both Natasha and Clint’s legs in rapid succession.

“Here, let me help you carry some of all that,” Jennifer offered, straightening back up. She took one of the grocery bags Natasha was holding and peeked curiously into it. “You guys didn’t have to bring so…”

Clint guessed the next word was _much,_ but Jennifer trailed off as she pulled the bottle of wine Natasha insisted on bringing over. 

Jennifer read the label and then fixed a solemn expression on Natasha. “You and I are going to get along just fine,” she said seriously.

As Clint snorted a laugh, Natasha rolled her eyes over to him. “And you said I shouldn’t bring a bottle of wine.”

“Hey, I only said Bruce doesn’t drink, not that you shouldn’t bring it,” Clint defended himself.

“Well, _I’m_ glad you didn’t listen to him,” Jennifer said before taking a step back to invite them in. “Come on inside. It’s freezing out there and Chrissie will be mad if I miss Santa Claus this year.”

The house already smelled heavenly with the preparations of the holiday feast. He could smell the cooking turkey and what smelled like some kind of pie. With the intoxicating aromas and the warmth of the home, Clint felt himself smile involuntarily. 

Jennifer led them past the entrance to the living room, where the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was coming back on after the end of a Black Friday commercial. Chrissie, however, wasn’t on the sofa or even in the room. 

Clint and Natasha followed Jennifer into the dining room, where the dining table already had a decorative tablecloth laid over it with a few snacks on top. Clint’s eyes went to the kitchen and his face immediately broke into a grin. 

“Bruce, they’re here,” Jennifer announced unnecessarily as she set the grocery bag she was carrying on the counter.

In front of the refrigerator, Bruce and Chrissie both glanced over and broke into smiles.

“Clint! Ms. Romanoff!” Chrissie instantly shrieked in excitement before running over. 

“Hey kiddo,” Clint said, quickly setting the dish of mashed potatoes down so he could scoop Chrissie up for an enormous hug that had her giggling wildly. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving!” she replied happily, throwing her arms around his neck. She grinned over at Natasha. “Happy Thanksgiving, Ms. Romanoff,” she said in the same polite manner all of the kids in the morning gymnastics class greeted her.

Natasha smiled. “Happy Thanksgiving, Chrissie.”

As Clint put Chrissie back down, Bruce stepped forward and handed Chrissie the little juice box he had been holding. “Santa will be on TV any minute now,” he reminded her.

Chrissie whirled around and grabbed Jennifer’s hand. “C’mon, Aunt Jenny! Santa’s coming!” She then grabbed Lucky’s leash, which Clint let her have without protest. 

“Can’t miss Santa Claus,” Jennifer agreed, turning a smile toward Natasha and Clint as she was hurriedly led away, Lucky trotting along behind them with his tail wagging.

When Clint glanced back toward Bruce, he found his boyfriend already smiling at him. The sight made Clint’s stomach twirl giddily in his core. He met Bruce halfway and wrapped his arms around him, pressing a sweet little kiss of greeting against Bruce’s lips. It felt so good to have Bruce in his arms. 

“Thanks for coming,” Bruce murmured, his voice warm.

“Thanks for having us,” Clint replied with a smile. They traded another brief kiss before they broke apart enough for Clint to wrap an arm around Bruce, his hand settling on Bruce’s hip and their sides still pressed together.

Natasha was standing next to the counter, her eyes on them and a little smile on her face. “Nice to see you again, Bruce,” she said once they realized she was still in the room. “Thanks for having us over.”

Clint bit back a smile at the hint of pink that touched Bruce’s cheeks, no doubt for sharing a kiss with her still in the room. Still, Bruce smiled. “I’m so glad you both were able to make it,” he replied. 

The genuine and warm tone of his voice seemed to put Natasha a bit more at ease, as her smile grew. It always thrilled him to see Bruce getting along with his friends. Clint felt himself grin happily.

“So,” he began a moment later, pulling Bruce along with him to the counter, “we brought stuff.”

“I can tell,” Bruce replied with a warm little smile. “Not to sound ungrateful, but you guys didn’t need to bring so much.”

“See?” Clint said, turning a satisfied looked toward Natasha. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the things on the countertop. “You were still wrong about bringing wine,” she pointed out.

“Ah yes, wine is the way to Jen’s heart,” Bruce said, twisting the bottle to take a look at the label at arm’s length since he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

Clint pulled one of the containers closer to him and pulled off the lid. “And as promised, I brought my mashed potatoes.” 

Bruce peered into the container, a smile playing on his lips. “Your _mean_ mashed potatoes? Thank you for bringing it.” He glanced at the other dish before looking at Natasha. “What did you bring?”

“Broccoli casserole,” she replied, opening the lid to show him. “I make it every year.”

“It looks wonderful,” Bruce said, looking over the dish. “Thank you.”

Natasha shrugged a little and put the lid back over the food. “I doubt Clint told you I was bringing it, so I apologize if you’re already making broccoli.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not,” Bruce replied with a smile over Clint’s noise of protest. 

Clint shot Natasha a dirty look. “And just for that, he’s going to have to decide which of our dishes he likes best.”

“You’re on,” Natasha replied coolly.

Bruce’s hands rose like white flags and he took a step back. “Nope,” he said, shaking his head despite the little smile on his lips, “I’m not playing favorites. I know better than to get between the two of you.”

Natasha quirked a brow at that and gave Bruce a long look. “Smart man,” she said.

“He has two doctorates, you know,” Clint added with a proud grin. At Bruce’s little huff of laughter, he planted a kiss against his temple.

Once they got everything properly stored and Clint had nosily peeked at everything going on in the oven and on the stovetop, the three of them headed into the living room just in time to see Santa Claus conclude the parade and officially begin the holiday season.

==

“Do you need a hand with anything?” Clint asked, pressing up behind Bruce and hooking his chin over Bruce’s shoulder.

He could hear the announcers of the annual Thanksgiving football game from the living room, where he had left Natasha and Lucky with Jennifer and Chrissie. It was almost three in the afternoon, almost three hours since he and Natasha had arrived at the house. With Bruce doing the cooking, Clint hadn’t wanted to interrupt for fear of ruining the holiday meal, but he felt useless just sitting there watching football.

That, and he just wanted to spend time with his boyfriend.

As his arms folded around Bruce’s belly, Bruce peered over at him with a sweet little smile on his face. “Everything is almost ready,” he said as he put the lid back on the simmering pot of gravy. One of his hands came up to rest on Clint’s, and Clint couldn’t help but smile as Bruce leaned back against him. After another moment, he added “Though you can set the table, if you’re dying to do something.”

“I’m kind of comfortable right here, on second thought,” Clint murmured, giving Bruce’s body a light squeeze before going back to watching Bruce check on one of the other pots on the stove, this one containing steamed green beans. “My friends wanted me to tell you Happy Thanksgiving,” he said.

“Which ones?” Bruce asked, another smile touching his features as he focused on his task.

“Steve and Buck,” Clint said. “They’re with Bucky’s sister. They’ve been texting me about how weird it is to not have everyone together today. We’ve been having informal Thanksgivings for the past few years, now, and it’s weird for all of us to be separate this year.”

Bruce nodded and gave a hum of agreement. “Do you remember two years ago, when we had that awful snowstorm over Thanksgiving?”

“How can I forget?” Clint replied with a laugh. “We all got together at Natasha’s place—Steve, Sam, and Buck were still overseas at the time—and got snowed in together.”

“Tony and Pepper had taken Sam out to Pepper’s parents’ place,” Bruce went on, his voice dropping in volume a little. “Jen couldn’t make it down that year because of the snow, so it was just Chrissie and me.” 

Clint didn’t know how to reply to that, so he held Bruce a little tighter. 

Bruce finished with one of the other pots and put the lid back on. Once his hands were free, he settled both of them over Clint’s arms and turned his head to look at him just a little. The movement brought their lips dangerously close together. 

“It’s weird,” Bruce said softly, each breath dancing over Clint’s mouth, “having Thanksgiving actually mean something. Even after Jen’s parents took me in, it still felt weird having Thanksgiving with _family_ or _friends,_ you know?”

Clint took a moment to let that settle in. They didn’t talk about their pasts—their childhoods—very much, and whenever it came up, it was Clint’s doing. He knew Bruce didn’t like to linger in the past, but he couldn’t help but feel a little curious to learn more about him. The fact that Bruce was the one to actually bring it up this time told him that he was getting more and more comfortable with their relationship and was opening up a little more each day. The thought made something blossom with warmth in his chest.

“It’s nice, though,” Clint finally replied, giving Bruce’s body another light squeeze, “to make these new traditions that we didn’t grow up with, to actually have something to look forward to next year on holidays that used to never really mean anything.” He tipped his face a little toward Bruce’s neck. “I like getting to spend holidays with the people important to me,” he murmured before planting a kiss against Bruce’s throat. A smile touched his lips when he felt Bruce’s hold on his arms tighten fractionally and a shiver run through him.

“So do I,” Bruce agreed quietly, and he shivered again when Clint pressed another kiss against his neck, followed by another and another until Bruce squirmed out of his grip. “Go set the table,” he said, sounding both flustered and amused as he lightly shoved Clint toward the dining table.

Clint grinned wolfishly, delighted with the reaction, but did as he was told.

==

“You know what I’m thankful for?” Jennifer asked as she spooned some mashed potatoes onto her plate before passing the ceramic bowl along to Natasha. “That I’m not going home this year with a _mountain_ of leftovers.”

Clint paused in the middle of reaching for the green beans to look over the feast. There was the platter of turkey on the counter, but there was a container holding sliced pieces of both white and dark meat on the cluttered table. There was cranberry sauce (which Jennifer had actually made from scratch), the broccoli casserole dish Natasha brought, Clint’s mashed potatoes, and a variety of other side dishes that filled surface atop the tablecloth. There was a basket of bread, different vegetables to choose from, and a little gravy boat with legit homemade gravy.

It was a feast.

Bruce, who was cutting Chrissie’s meal into bite-sized pieces, must have seen the look on his face and smiled. “Whenever we do holidays with Tony and Pepper, they always go way overboard on the food. This is nothing compared to the spread they provide.”

“I can’t eat turkey for a week again, Bruce,” Jennifer said, faux-desperation in her voice that made Chrissie giggle and Natasha snort a laugh into her wine. 

“You’ll get to next year,” Bruce reminded his cousin sweetly as he set placed the plate of neatly sliced food in front of his daughter. Clint bit back a grin.

“Well, if we’re going around the table,” Natasha said, “then I suppose I’m thankful that Clint hasn’t gifted me with a new Thanksgiving trinket this year.”

“The night’s still young,” Clint said with a brilliant smile.

“You do Thanksgiving gifts?” Chrissie asked curiously, pausing in reaching for her fork to look between Clint and Natasha.

“Just for Natasha,” Clint said, even as Natasha replied “Only to me, it seems.” The two of them traded a grin before Clint turned to look at Chrissie. “It’s this sort of tradition me and a couple of friends got into a few years ago. We go out and get Natasha some sort of… _unique_ —” He grinned at the scoffing noise that came from Natasha. “—gift on most holidays.”

“You mean _useless,_ ” Natasha cut in.

Jennifer picked up the basket of bread and took out a roll. “How did this tradition come about?” she asked.

Natasha accepted the basket from Jennifer and withdrew a roll before passing it along to Clint. “We were having a get-together at my recently-purchased home, and they all seemed to think it was lacking in decorations.”

“So we took it upon ourselves to help out,” Clint concluded sunnily.

Jennifer grinned and looked over at Bruce. “That sounds like us when you moved into that apartment you had in college.”

Bruce shot her a look. “I still have some of it in the attic, if you’re interested in taking some of it back,” he offered.

“No,” she replied immediately. “Nope, best just leave it up there for eternity.” 

“Now _I’m_ curious,” Clint said, grinning over at his boyfriend.

“No,” both Bruce and Jennifer said in unison, and Clint immediately cracked up.

They continued to pass around bowls and platters of each different dish, filling up their plates. The five of them continued to chat idly over the sound of clinking cutlery and the football game in the next room playing at a low volume.

“Well, how about you, Clint?” Natasha asked out of the blue.

“How about what?” Clint asked after swallowing his mouthful of amazing turkey. He had already embarrassed Bruce with the noise he had made earlier after his first bite of the savory main course.

“What you’re thankful for,” she elaborated, fixing him with a look.

“Oh,” he murmured. Everyone was looking at him, so he carefully put his fork down and picked up his napkin. He wiped his mouth for a moment of distraction. “Well, um…” he began a little nervously. He could have thought of something funny to say in the same vein as Jennifer and Natasha, but then he locked eyes with Bruce. Bruce, who was watching him quietly and patiently and who, even now, still looked a little awed that he had actually agreed to spend the holiday with him.

Even as he felt himself blush a little under the intensity of his gaze, Clint smiled. “I’m thankful for the people I can share this day with and make it feel like a holiday,” he said, still looking at Bruce.

Bruce’s eyes immediately dropped to the table as his face reddened, but there was no mistaking the smile on his face as Jennifer and Chrissie both cooed an “aww” in unison. Clint couldn’t help but smile fondly at the reaction.

Clint dragged his eyes away from Bruce and grinned down at the little girl sitting next to him. “How about you, squirt?” 

Chrissie grinned back up at him. “I’m thankful for my family and friends and gymnastics class and the telephone!”

Jennifer laughed. “You really liked your phone call with Sammie earlier, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Mhm!” she hummed enthusiastically around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. She swallowed and looked up at Bruce. “Your turn, Daddy.”

Bruce glanced over at Chrissie before his eyes moved to Clint. A gorgeous smile touched his lips, one that touched his eyes and made the whole room seem to brighten. Clint felt his mouth dry out from being under Bruce’s stare again, but he made no move to grab his drink. He stared right back, waiting. 

“I’m so thankful we were all able to be here together today,” Bruce began, looking around the table, “to celebrate a holiday that might not have meant much back when I was a kid, but means a whole lot now. It…It really means the world to me that you’re all here today.” He glanced almost shyly back at Clint and smiled. “Thank you.”

Clint felt his face warm a little. His smile remained on his face even as Jennifer lightly punched Bruce in the arm and called him a sap, but Bruce had a happy little smile on his face, too. 

And when Clint happened to notice Natasha with a surprisingly soft smile touching her lips as she glanced at him, he kept on grinning.

==

“Oh, there’s Pisces.”

Bruce glanced up at the clear night sky where Clint had his gloved finger pointing and smiled. “You’re right,” he said.

Clint bumped shoulders with Bruce and grinned. “No need to sound so surprised, y’know.”

“I’m not surprised you found it,” Bruce explained, each word accompanied with a small cloud of breath made visible by the bitter cold. “I mean…” He looked off and shrugged. “I just…wasn’t sure if you were interested and that you were too nice to tell me you were bored.”

Clint stared at him for a moment before he smiled and bumped shoulders with him again. “I promise you I wasn’t bored,” he said once Bruce had looked at him. “I mean, if I had been in a classroom looking at a textbook, yeah, I probably would have found it boring, but getting to lie there with you pointing to each constellation was a lot of fun.” He grinned and looked back up toward the heavens, letting the memory of that date under the stars play over him. “Now that I know what to look for, I can actually spot them a lot easier now. Not to brag or anything, but I’ve got really good eyes.”

After a moment of hush, Bruce huffed a laugh and glanced up at the sky. “I’ll have to take you out and show you the summer constellations once it warms up again.”

A smile rose unbidden on Clint’s face. Just hearing Bruce talk about the future, a future that included _him,_ made his heart leap and his belly flip. “That’d be awesome,” he replied. “And then I can take you to this really awesome archery competition that happens at the renaissance faire upstate in April.”

Bruce laughed. “You know, I’ve never actually been to a renaissance faire before.”

“Oh man, they’re lots of fun,” Clint said with a bright smile. “You’ll love it.”

“I’ve always wanted to go,” Bruce admitted.

Clint slung an arm around Bruce’s shoulders and held him close. “Then it’s a date. Save the date, sometime five months from now.”

“I’ll just mark every day in April as busy, then, shall I?” Bruce asked with a grin.

“Yep,” Clint replied. He reveled in Bruce’s responding laugh and turned the half-embrace into a proper one. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, just hugging in the cold November night. With Bruce in his arms and a bright future together, though, it didn’t feel all that cold. He basked in the wondrous glory that he could stand out in the November chill with someone to keep him warm.

After another moment of embracing, Clint’s shoulder slumped. “I should really go let the car warm up,” he said reluctantly, not moving an inch.

He grinned when Bruce didn’t let him go. “You know you’re both welcome to stay the night,” Bruce murmured. “I have the room.”

Clint felt his grin melt into something warm and soft and something his friends would tease him about if they saw it. He pressed a kiss against Bruce’s temple. “I’d love nothing more, but I need to get Tasha back to her place.” He smiled against Bruce’s hairline. “I still have to give her her Thanksgiving present, too.”

Bruce snorted a soft laugh. “Of course,” he replied. 

Clint smiled again and hugged Bruce a little tighter, a little closer. “Maybe next time, though.”

There was a brief pause, but there was no mistaking the quiet anticipation and hope in Bruce’s voice as he said “Next time.” It made Clint press another kiss against his temple, followed by a longer one directly on his mouth.

They finally separated so Clint could start his car, but neither of them strayed far from the other’s side. Once Clint’s car was warming up, they both retreated back inside and out of the cold. 

They found Jennifer, Chrissie, and Natasha in the kitchen, making up to-go bags of Thanksgiving leftovers for Clint and Natasha to take back with them. With the leftovers being split up, it really didn’t seem like the same feast they had enjoyed a few hours ago. It made Clint happy to see that none of it was going to waste. 

“And there’s two rolls for each of you,” Jennifer said with finality, slipping two pieces of bread into two separate zip-lock baggies. The counter was a mess of bagged up meal portions, but once Jennifer and Chrissie divvied the bags up and put them into plastic grocery bags, everything was put back in order. 

“There,” Chrissie said with a bright smile. “Now you can have Thanksgiving again tomorrow!”

“You’re too sweet, kiddo,” Clint replied, grinning widely as he leaned down to press a kiss against her cheek. “Thank you.”

Chrissie giggled and returned the kiss with one of her own before Clint stood back up. When he was upright again, he caught Natasha watching him, her expression thoughtful as a tiny smile pulled at her lips. He suddenly remembered that this was the first time she had seen him interact with Chrissie—or any child, really—outside of work. 

Even as he caught her eye to decipher her face, she continued staring and that smile grew before she finished off her wine. She put down her wineglass and looked over at his boyfriend. “Bruce, thank you so much for having us,” she said. 

“And for the leftovers,” Clint added, but his eyes lingered on her.

Bruce smiled and curled an arm around Clint’s back. “No, thank you both for coming over,” he replied. “I’m so glad we were all able to be together today.”

“Me too,” Clint said with a smile, letting his arm loop around Bruce to draw them closer. “This was great.”

As Clint pressed a quick kiss against Bruce’s cheek, Jennifer rolled her eyes over to Natasha. “Is he usually this sappy? I mean, I expect this from Bruce…”

“Only after a few drinks,” Natasha replied, but she was still watching Clint curiously. When their eyes met this time, though, she looked over at the other woman. “Jennifer, it’s been a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Jennifer said brightly. “It was nice to really get to know you. Definitely keep in touch.”

Natasha smiled down at Chrissie when the little girl offered her one of the plastic grocery bags. “Thank you, Chrissie,” she said. “And it was wonderful getting to know you, too.”

Chrissie giggled a little shyly, but she looked elated to have made a new friend.

Jennifer glanced between the other adults in the room before she reached down and ruffled Chrissie’s hair. “C’mon, squirt. Let’s go find a book to read for bedtime.”

The little girl beamed, but before she ran off toward her room, she ran straight to Clint with open arms. Clint obligingly knelt down and accepted the warm embrace from her. “Good night, Clint,” Chrissie said happily against his throat. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, kiddo,” Clint replied, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Get some sleep.”

When they broke apart, Bruce laid a hand atop the crown of her head. “I’ll be in in a few minutes,” he promised her.

Chrissie nodded with a bright smile and ran off down the hall.

Jennifer moved to follow, but not before catching Clint in an embrace. “It was great to see you again, Clint,” she said. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“You too,” Clint said with a smile as he returned the hug.

When Jennifer stepped back, she turned a serious look toward Bruce. “I think I’m a little jealous of you,” she said with narrowed eyes. “He gives awesome hugs.”

As Clint felt himself grin, Bruce nodded. “He does,” Bruce agreed, though his face seemed to redden just a touch.

Jennifer grinned at him before she stepped by them to follow after Chrissie. “Drive safe, guys! Good night!”

“Night,” Natasha and Clint called after her.

Bruce followed along behind them as they went out the front door. Their load was much lighter than it had been when they arrived; they had their dishes they had brought the mashed potatoes and casserole in and their leftovers. Even Lucky wasn’t as amped up as he had been that morning. They stowed everything in the backseat of the car, which was nice and toasty against the bitter cold of the November night. 

Once Lucky was in the backseat and had curled up to go back to sleep, Natasha turned to Bruce. “Thanks again for having us over, Bruce,” she said. “It was so nice getting to know you better.”

“You as well,” Bruce replied with a content little smile. “We’ll have to do this again sometime. It was fun.”

“It was,” Natasha agreed, a smile pulling at the edges of her lips. “Have a good night.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Bruce said as she turned to hop into the passenger seat to give them some privacy.

As the car door closed, Clint shot her a grateful smile through the windshield before turning to Bruce. Bruce was already turning toward him, and they pulled each other into a lovingly tight embrace. Clint would have loved to stay right there for hours, just holding his guy in the peace of the quiet neighborhood.

“Thank you for coming,” Bruce said softly against his throat. “I’m… I’m really glad we were able to spend today together.”

“Me too,” Clint agreed, his tone hushed as he pulled Bruce a little closer. “Bruce, me too.”

“Any plans for tomorrow?” Bruce asked a moment later.

“Aside from staying the _hell_ away from any Black Friday sale happening, nope,” Clint said. 

“Would you like to come over for breakfast?” Bruce asked. “Nine-ish?”

Clint immediately felt a smile cross his face and warmth spread into his chest. “I’d love to,” he said. Whether it was breakfast tomorrow or an archery date in April or a night under the stars sometime in the summer next year, he sort of loved the idea of them making plans together, making plans that cemented the idea of a _future,_ of something to look forward to past the present. Maybe it was the holiday sappiness getting to him, but he just really liked that they could plan like this without it feeling terrifying.

His grin widened and he tipped his chin more into Bruce’s hair to hide his smile. “Need me to bring anything?” he asked.

“Just yourself,” Bruce answered.

“Then it’s a date,” Clint murmured before pressing a kiss against Bruce’s neck.

Bruce immediately shivered. “God, your nose is _freezing,_ ” he said with a laugh. “Go warm up before you catch cold.”

“You’d nurse me back to health, though, right?” Clint asked with a grin as they stepped back and out of each other’s embrace, but not out of each other’s reach. 

“You know I’m not that kind of doctor,” Bruce replied, smiling, “but I’d do what I can.”

“My hero.”

They shared one last embrace and one more kiss before Bruce lightly pushed Clint toward the idling car. “See you tomorrow,” Bruce said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Nine-ish on the dot,” Clint said with a loose salute as he stepped backwards toward the driver’s side door. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Clint ducked into his car and glanced over at Natasha, who was on her phone. “Ready?”

“As long as you and your boyfriend are done being disgustingly sweet out in public,” she replied without looking up from her cellphone. 

“Just think how much more disgustingly sweet we are behind closed doors,” Clint said with a wicked grin before blowing a kiss to Bruce through the windshield.

Bruce just laughed.

“Disgusting,” Natasha murmured, and Clint laughed as he put the car into reverse and started backing out of the driveway.

They both waved to Bruce before they started down the road toward the opening of the neighborhood. 

It wasn’t until they hit the stop light at the entrance to the neighborhood that Clint glanced back over. “So, you enjoy yourself?” he asked.

“It was nice,” Natasha replied, still looking out the windshield. “Thanks for letting me come with you.”

“Don’t thank me for that,” Clint said with a mild scoff, pressing on the accelerator as the light turned green. “You know I wouldn’t have left you alone today.”

Natasha didn’t answer, and when he stole a quick peek over at her, he found her staring at him with that same soft look from inside the house before they had all said their goodbyes. “What?”

A smile touched her lips and she looked back at the road; Clint followed her example. “Nothing,” she said. “It’s just really nice to see you happy again. I’m glad I had the opportunity to see the two of you together firsthand today. You both seem really happy together.”

Clint felt his face heat up, but there was no denying the foolish smile that crossed his face. “And you called _me_ sappy,” he joked, but there was sincere happiness in his voice that anyone could hear.

“You _are_ disgustingly sappy,” she replied.

He faked sniffed. “Well, I don’t know if I should give you your Thanksgiving gift anymore, if you’re going to keep being mean.”

“Is that what it takes to keep you from buying me that garbage?” Natasha asked. “Insulting your manhood?” 

“Never,” Clint replied. “There is no force in this world that will keep me from giving you your Thanksgiving gift.”

“Joy,” she deadpanned, but Clint knew her well enough to know she was happy, too. 

They drove for a few more minutes in quiet before she spoke up again. “It was a really nice Thanksgiving.”

Clint felt himself smile again. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it's taken this long to get this chapter done! I've been CRAZY busy lately. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be ready, but I'll try my best to keep the wait-time limited. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> Also, had to bump up the rating, what with their discussions on sex and whatnot.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the named/recognizable characters present. They belong to Marvel. Other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

“Alright, buddy, ready for a car ride?” Clint asked as he pulled his winter coat over his hoodie.

Lucky immediately jumped to his feet, tongue lolling out and tail wagging eagerly.

A few minutes later, they stepped out of the apartment complex and out into the December cold. Even with it being six in the evening and the sun long set, the sky was a shade of faint orange that only came when there was heavy cloud cover. Clint glanced upwards for a moment and blinked when a raindrop hit his forehead. 

“Gotta love this December weather,” he murmured as he led Lucky to where his car was parked on the street. 

Once he got Lucky into the backseat, he pulled out his phone and sent Bruce a quick text.

**_Me: about to hit the road. see you soon :) xoxo_ **

After he shoved his phone back into his pocket, he pulled his coat more tightly around him and hopped into the driver’s seat. A minute later, he was on the road.

He had been making this drive to Bruce’s house twice or more a week since their relationship had settled into a steady routine. Every Monday and Wednesday, Bruce invited him over to have dinner and to just enjoy each other’s company for a few hours before Clint would drive home. It was easier to go to his boyfriend’s place than for Bruce to constantly need to find babysitters during the week or for Bruce to bring Chrissie along to Clint’s apartment, only to have to cut the date short so he could get Chrissie home in time for bedtime. It was like clockwork, and Clint always found himself looking forward to the moments he got to spend with Bruce and Chrissie, uninterrupted by the more immediate of obligations or deadlines.

The promise of a home-cooked meal was just an added perk.

It was Wednesday evening. Clint had finished up at the gym about an hour ago and was eager to get to the Banner household.

About ten minutes later, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket as he stopped at a red light. The rain was starting to pick up.

“Ugh,” Clint murmured as he switched on his windshield wipers. “What a gross night.” He peered upwards at the sky for a moment before the light turned green.

The phone in his pocket buzzed a second time and Clint frowned. Bruce would always reply with a single text to his message that he’d be there soon. For him to send more than one was odd. He started to reach for his phone, but a noise made him pause. That didn’t sound like rain hitting his windshield…

As he pulled to another stop at an intersection, he leaned in and looked at his windshield. 

“Uh oh.” Those weren’t raindrops sliding down the glass; that was _ice._ “Shit, was it supposed to ice tonight?” 

In the backseat, Lucky made a soft huffing noise and went back to sleep.

Clint, still leaned forward against the steering wheel, glanced upward. Sure enough, in the red glow coming off of the traffic light, he could see sleet coming down. Even as he was watching, the ice seemed to pick up in intensity, and he could see it bouncing off of the road and the hood of his car.

He was already more than halfway to the Banner house, so turning around now would be stupid. There was the option of pulling over into one of the shopping centers nearby to wait it out, but judging by how the sleet was steadily picking up, that didn’t seem like the best of ideas either. 

The light turned green and Clint gently pressed on the accelerator. The roads didn’t seem bad for the moment, but after growing up in Iowa, he knew how to deal with nasty winter weather and how quickly road conditions could change. He just hoped that the cars around him knew how to navigate slick roads. He _really_ couldn’t afford to have his car totaled by someone spinning out on a little bit of ice.

Clint felt his phone buzz in his pocket again and he guiltily ignored it. He could imagine what the text from Bruce would say, what with the worsening weather, but he figured his boyfriend would forgive him for not answering promptly so he could concentrate on the road. Instead, he promised himself he would reply when he hit the next red light.

As he continued carefully down the road, he flipped on his radio to see if there was a weather report. But the song that was playing ended and immediately went into another pop song and the red light ahead of him turned green before his car could even begin to slow to a stop.

Making a face of betrayal at the light, Clint glanced at the clock on his radio. He was only about seven minutes out from Bruce’s house. Surely he’d catch a red light before then.

==

About fifteen minutes later, Clint parked in front of the Banner house. “The _one time_ I drive out here and actually _want_ to stop at a red light, I hit every green,” he muttered to himself as he turned off his radio—which _still_ hadn’t provided a weather update. Every time he flipped to a different station, he managed to just miss the weather and traffic report. It hadn’t helped that it seemed that _no one_ in this city knew how to drive with a little bit of ice on the road, so everyone was driving crazy slow.

Never mind that he had passed two minor accidents on the short drive here.

In the backseat, Lucky had gotten up and was panting happily against the window. As Clint turned off his car, the sound of falling sleet and ice became clearer. It pinged and tinged off of his vehicle, picking up speed by the minute. 

Pulling in a fortifying breath, Clint opened the door and rushed outside, the ice crunching beneath his boots. He shivered as sleet immediately went down the back of his neck and into his shirt. 

After goading Lucky down out of the car, they made a break for the porch, where the light had mercifully been left on. 

As they reached the steps, the front door opened. More light spilled out of the open doorway and down the stairs, along with Bruce’s shadow from where he was standing. Clint nearly paused where he stood to just gape at him, all soft and warm in the glow of home, but another piece of ice sneaked past his collar and went down his neck. 

Then he saw the relief on Bruce’s face.

The phone in his pocket suddenly felt a lot heavier. Clint trudged up the stairs, but before he could apologize for the missed texts, Bruce was out of the doorway and his arms were around him, pulling him close.

“I was getting worried,” Bruce breathed against his shoulder, squeezing Clint a little tighter.

Clint brought his arms up and wrapped them around Bruce, holding him. “It’s okay, nothing happened. I’m fine,” he murmured, low and reassuring. “The roads aren’t even that bad right now.”

“Did you get my texts?” Bruce asked, drawing back a little to look at Clint.

Clint opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of clinking dog tags brought his attention to the doorway behind Bruce. “Aw, Luck, no,” he called to his dog, who was shaking himself dry inside the house.

Bruce huffed a laugh and drew back completely. “Come on,” he said, his hand slipping into Clint’s and leading him inside. “It’s freezing out here.”

While Clint knelt down to keep Lucky from wandering onto the carpeted areas with wet paws, Bruce went off to grab a towel. He pulled out his phone and checked the messages he had missed.

****

Approaching footsteps brought Clint’s eyes up from his phone just in time to see Bruce turn the corner with a towel in his hand. “Here we go,” Bruce said, kneeling down with Clint.

As they both started drying Lucky off, Clint kept his eyes on his dog. “I’m sorry,” he said guiltily. “I just saw your texts; I was already on the road and it was just starting to ice on that side of town. I didn’t want to risk taking my focus off of the road.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Bruce replied. “My state of mind is not more important than your safety. Thanks for not taking that risk.”

Clint felt himself smile and looked back up, fully intending to lean across the short distance between them to kiss his guy. But then he got his first really good look at Bruce and frowned. “Are you alright?” he asked, taking in the fluffier-than-normal hair, like he had been running his hands through it all day. There was a tired and stressed look on his face and he looked incredibly tense.

Bruce met his eyes, drawing a breath to no doubt put Clint’s worries at ease, but after a silent moment just staring at him, Bruce let out that breath as a sigh. “It’s been a long day,” he admitted instead. “Finals are next week and my students are panicking, and now with this snowstorm coming through, I’ve been getting bombarded with emails, and…” He struggled for words for a moment before he sighed again, shaking his head a little. “At this point, I’m just reminding myself to breathe.”

They let Lucky wander into the house as they both got to their feet. Clint drew Bruce in for another hug and felt some of the tension loosen in his shoulders. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked. Now he felt even more guilty for adding to Bruce’s stressful day and wanted to do what he could to help alleviate some of the weight from Bruce’s shoulders.

Bruce smiled. “You’re sweet to offer,” he said, “but that’s okay. Thanks, though.”

“You sure?” Clint asked. “Because if you haven’t started making something, I could totally handle making dinner while you get to your emails.” 

Bruce gave him one last squeeze and a kiss on the temple before pulling away. “We can make something together,” he offered as a compromise.

“Deal,” Clint grinned. “Lead the way and I will gladly offer my services in any—”

“Clint’s here!” 

Clint was forced to take a step back when Chrissie ran straight into him, latching on tightly to his left leg. A grin found its way to his face. “Hey kiddo!” 

Chrissie stepped away from his leg and instead grabbed one of his hands, bouncing excitedly in place. “Clint! Clint! It’s supposed to _snow!”_

“Is it?” he asked.

“Yeah! My preschool’s closed tomorrow and Susie and me are going to play in the snow and make snow angels and snowmen. There’s going to be so much snow!” Chrissie explained happily, swinging Clint’s hands. “It’s supposed to be the biggest snowstorm _ever!”_

Clint felt his smile falter at that. “Is it?” he said again, looking to his boyfriend for confirmation. His stomach suddenly felt tight with nerves. 

“They’re calling for 18 inches here,” Bruce answered, looking at Clint curiously.

“Daddy said I can stay up _all night_ and watch the snow,” Chrissie boasted.

Bruce looked down at his daughter. “I said you could stay up until 8:30, sweetheart,” he replied, his tone signifying he had said this a few times. He glanced back at Clint. “You didn’t know about it?”

Embarrassed, Clint shook his head. “No, none of my clients or coworkers mentioned it at all.” He wracked his mind, trying to remember if he had heard any sort of coverage on the impending storm and failing.

And now here he was, at Bruce’s place, with bad weather on the way. And he knew Bruce wasn’t going to let him drive home in a snowstorm.

As Chrissie let go of his hands to go play with Lucky, Clint turned back toward Bruce, eyes wide. “I am so sorry,” he said fervently, mortified. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have—”

“Clint, it’s fine,” Bruce stopped him in a reassuring voice. His hands caught Clint’s and he easily met his eyes. “You know you’re welcome here.”

“I know, I know, it’s just…” Clint sighed and looked back toward the door. “My stupidity is rushing us into—”

“Clint, stop,” Bruce cut in, sharp enough to bring Clint’s eyes straight back to him but gentle enough to not hold any real heat. Bruce was looking at him intensely and Clint found it impossible to look away as Bruce continued. “You are not stupid for not knowing about the storm. It wasn’t supposed to even be that big of a snowstorm two days ago.” He offered a little smile. “And you’re not rushing us into anything. I mean, we’ve been talking about staying the night with each other for a while now, and we’ve both fallen asleep on each other accidentally. I think falling asleep with each other on purpose will work out just fine, don’t you?” 

Clint could do nothing but stare. He wasn’t sure how to respond to such a statement or which part he should even respond to first. He really should have heard something about the storm, but if it wasn’t supposed to be that big of a deal until only recently, that could be why he hadn’t heard anything. And Bruce was right; they’d fallen asleep around each other before, and at the end of each date at either Clint’s apartment or this house, there was always the offer to stay the night. Obligations to either work or being the caregiver of a child or a dog kept them from doing so each time.

But the gym would be closed tomorrow, and Lucky was here. No obligations to worry about.

When Clint’s silence went on for a little too long, Bruce smiled teasingly and gave Clint’s hands a squeeze. “Or, I guess if you really wanted to, you’re welcome to the guest room, but my bed has plenty of space.”

Clint finally snapped from his thoughts and returned Bruce’s smile with a grin of his own. “Guess I’ll just have to see for myself, then, hmm?” He pulled one of Bruce’s hands to his lips and pressed a grateful kiss against his knuckles before pulling him into another embrace. “Thank you, Bruce,” he said against Bruce’s neck.

Bruce only gave him a loving squeeze before they broke apart. 

==

Around 8:20, Clint excused himself to go outside and grab his gym bag from his car. On the way, he pulled out his phone and opened his last message from Natasha.

**_Me: so, im about to be snowed in with bruce._ **

As he was hurrying down the driveway, hunched against the cold and ice, his phone buzzed. Clint opened his car door and hopped inside, closing the door behind him and shaking off the sleet from his hair. He pulled out his phone and immediately blushed.

**_Tasha: At least you know how to keep each other warm ;)_ **

Before he could formulate a response, another text came through, followed by another.

**_Tasha: Wait, this is the first time you’ll be spending the night in a bed together, isn’t it?_ **

**_Tasha: And you’re nervous._ **

Clint hesitated for a moment, just staring at his lit-up screen and listening to the ice hit his car before he glanced across the yard toward where the living room lights were leaving a square of warmth in the otherwise cold, dark night. 

**_Me: ...you know, only a little bit, i think._ **

Yes, he still felt bad about forcing them to take their next step in their relationship tonight, but then he thought back to Thanksgiving and the countless other times at the end of their dates. They would linger a little longer each time, pushing off having to actually leave only to return to an empty apartment or an empty bed. They were ready for this.

Sharing a bed with someone wasn’t a big deal, right? He’d shared lots of beds with people before, platonically and romantically.

But somehow, this felt like a big step forward.

An alert sound from his phone broke him from his thoughts and Clint looked back down at the screen.

**_Tasha: You’ll be fine, Clint. You don’t snore and you can sleep anywhere, so you won’t keep him up._ **

**_Tasha: And the fact that you cuddle in your sleep will probably work to your advantage in this situation._**

Clint snorted a laugh.

**_Me: thanks for the strategic pov_ **

**_Tasha: Get out there and snuggle your man, Cuddlebug. I expect a full report at 0900 hours._ **

A bark of laughter escaped from him.

**_Tasha: You’ll be fine, Clint. Have a good night._ **

Clint grinned down at his phone and typed back his thanks before slipping his phone back into his pocket. He took a moment to bask in the lightness he was feeling and watch the sleet against one of the street lamps lining the neighborhood road. A smile overtook his features again and he reached for his gym bag and the bag of dog food he had been too lazy to take inside from the weekend’s grocery run.

More ice managed to sneak its way down his neck into his shirt as he hurried back up the driveway to the front door. 

He let himself back inside and closed the door behind him. He set his stuff down and kicked off his wet boots, wandering into the house and listening for Bruce and Chrissie. When he had walked outside, they had been down in the basement. A quick peek down the hall showed that all of those lights were off, so they were probably still downstairs.

As he got to the top of the steps leading to the basement, he could hear their voices.

“…hasn’t started snowing yet!” Chrissie was saying.

“It isn’t supposed to start snowing until much later, sweetheart,” Bruce explained patiently. 

“But I want to watch the snow!” Chrissie argued. “You said I could stay up and watch the snow!”

Clint hesitated on the landing before carefully starting to make his way down the stairs.

“Chrissie, I said you could stay up until 8:30,” Bruce replied in an even tone. “I gave you an extra five minutes, but now it’s time for bed.”

“But it isn’t snowing yet!” Chrissie yelled, and Clint came to a stop halfway down the stairs and froze. He racked his brain to remember a time Chrissie had argued with her father and could only come up with that first time he had seen them walking through the park when she had said she wanted a dog. Bruce had contained that quickly; this one seemed to be escalating. 

“It’s supposed to start snowing way past your bedtime, Chrissie,” Bruce was saying calmly. “It’ll even be past _my_ bedtime. Now come on, it’s time—”

“ _Bradley’s_ mommy and daddy are letting _him_ stay up to watch the snow! He said so in school!” Chrissie shouted.

“Well, that’s Bradley’s mommy and daddy’s decision,” Bruce replied, “and it sounds like he’ll be awfully sleepy tomorrow. You need sleep if you want to have lots of energy to play in the snow. So let’s go upstairs and get ready for bed.”

And just like that, shit hit the fan.

Clint jerked back as a scream erupted from the little girl, enraged and piercing. He had no idea what to do; he was rooted to the spot, suddenly frozen with the realization that he had never had to deal with a child in full tantrum-mode before in his life. 

“Chrissie—” Bruce began in a forcibly level voice, but whatever reasoning he was about to offer was drowned out in a fit of screaming and tears. 

“No!” she shrieked before wailing again. There was the sound of little feet slapping the tile floor next to the sliding door and then Chrissie came rocketing into view. Clint had never seen her look so distraught and upset in the months he had known her and he felt himself begin to panic internally. How did parents _deal_ with this?

She paused when she saw him standing there on the darkened staircase, tears streaming from her eyes. She drew a gulping breath. “Clint, can I watch the snow?” she asked, the words coming out in a rush.

“U-Uh,” Clint stammered helplessly.

Whatever answer she was hoping for, that wasn’t it. Chrissie’s face immediately twisted and she let out another scream. She raced up the stairs, reaching out to push at Clint’s legs before he quickly stepped aside to let her rush past.

 _“Chrissie,”_ Bruce said sharply as he came quickly into view, “do _not_ push.”

Another shrieking cry erupted from the little girl. “No!” Chrissie twisted around on the step, nearly overbalancing in her rush to turn and glare down at her dad. “You’re so mean!” She drew shuddering breaths and tears streamed down her reddened face. “I hate you! _I hate you!”_

Clint felt like he was punched in the gut. He jerked back in the face of the scathing words, words not even meant for him. He watched her twist back around and rush up the rest of the stairs. She slammed the door to the basement and, in the stunned silence, he heard her stomp and scream and cry from the kitchen all the way to her room before she slammed that door, too.

He stared at the basement door for a breathless heartbeat more before he glanced down the stairs at Bruce. His chest immediately grew tight.

Bruce was staring up past Clint at the door with a look of heartbreak on his face.

The look was short-lived. With visible effort, Bruce closed his eyes and drew in a long breath through his nose, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it through his mouth. As he was exhaling, he shook his head and let one of his hands go to his hairline before he paced off out of view.

Clint stayed where he was for only a moment more and then carefully made his way down the rest of the stairs. When he reached the floor, he found Bruce standing in front of the sliding door to the backyard, his hands on his hips and his head down. Clint could tell he was still taking deep breaths.

Clint had no idea what to do. Upstairs, he could still hear Chrissie wailing in the heat of her tantrum. He knew she hadn’t meant what she said, but there was no doubt it was said with the express intent to hurt. He didn’t know what to do. He felt helpless.

Bruce must have sensed he was standing there, for his next exhale came out as a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Clint wasn’t expecting that. 

At his silence, Bruce turned and gave him a tired look. The man looked exhausted. “That you had to be here for that,” he elaborated. Bruce glanced off at nothing before he turned back to watch the sleet outside. “She just… She was just so excited about the snow that she didn’t take her nap today in preschool, so she’s grumpy.”

“That’s a pretty extreme form of grumpiness,” Clint murmured without thinking when he had found his voice at last. 

His comment made Bruce snort a small laugh, but it was humorless.

Clint treaded cautiously forward and let his hands rest on Bruce’s shoulders for a moment before pressing in close behind him, arms wrapping gently around his waist. That tension from earlier in the evening was back tenfold, but as his arms settled around him, he felt some of it slowly dissipate. “None of that is your fault, Bruce,” Clint said softly against the back of Bruce’s neck. “Her not sleeping today…it not snowing yet… It’s all out of your control.”

Bruce heaved a sigh and leaned a little more into Clint’s arms. “That kind of logic doesn’t work with kids her age,” he replied in a low voice that struggled to stay even.

Upstairs, the screaming had quieted down. Occasionally a sob would reach their ears, but the house was suddenly really quiet. The tinkling of ice and sleet hitting the sliding door and the patio filled the void until another long exhale escaped from Bruce. 

“Don’t worry about it too much, Clint,” Bruce said wearily. He caught one of Clint’s hands as he stepped out of the embrace and started to lead them toward the stairs. “Kids her age sometimes still have meltdowns.”

“I’ve just…never seen her as anything other than sweet,” Clint replied, bewildered, as he followed along after Bruce. “I mean, it was bound to happen at some point, but just…”

“I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more often, to be honest,” Bruce admitted quietly as they made it up to the kitchen. “I mean, she is a Banner, after all.”

Clint couldn’t help but smile at that. Bruce was pretty much the most chill person he knew. “I don’t think temper tantrums are hereditary, Bruce,” he joked.

The smile on his face faded a little, however, when Bruce turned to give him a look that seemed to say _you have no idea._

The moment was broken when an email alert sounded from Bruce’s laptop on the dining table, followed swiftly by another one. Clint watched Bruce take another long, deep breath, eyes closed and no doubt counting to ten in his head.

“And the blizzard panic continues,” Bruce exhaled, giving his laptop a look of defeat. “Clint, I’m sorry about all—”

He made a startled noise when Clint closed in on him and gave him an enormous hug. “You need to stop apologizing so much,” Clint said, pressing a kiss against his forehead.

“Sorry,” Bruce mumbled, and then immediately chuckled sheepishly. He sighed and let his face rest against Clint’s shoulder. It was another moment before Bruce wrapped his arms around Clint’s waist and sunk into the embrace. “It’s been a crazy day.”

Clint only held him closer, letting one of his hands run soothingly along Bruce’s back. It was completely quiet now; Clint wondered if Chrissie had cried herself to sleep. He guessed it was pretty probable, if she didn’t take her nap like she normally did. 

“What can I do to help?” Clint asked softly. “Should I go check up on her?”

“No,” Bruce said, pulling back slightly to glance at the doorway leading to the hallway, “when she gets like this, I normally give her a few minutes to cool down. She’ll be ready to talk soon.” His computer dinged with another alert. “And I need get an email sent out to my students with the review material for exams next week before they completely clog up my inbox.”

Clint let one of his hands linger on Bruce’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Well, would it help if I took care of the dishes, at least?” he asked in a hopeful tone.

It startled a laugh out of Bruce and Clint felt himself beam. “Yes, thank you,” Bruce said with a smile, leaning in to press a kiss against Clint’s lips. “This email shouldn’t take long.”

“Take your time,” Clint replied. He gave Bruce a parting kiss before he moved into the kitchen to take care of the dishes from dinner. Bruce took a seat in front of his laptop and started composing his email. 

Clint stole quick glances over at Bruce as he worked. The tension in Bruce’s shoulders had diminished after their conversation, but it hadn’t completely disappeared. He could tell that this day had really weighed Bruce down, between Chrissie and his students and worrying about Clint driving in the bad weather…just one thing after another. It was enough to get anyone frazzled. The fact that he could still smile and laugh while under that much stress was frankly remarkable. At this point in a bad day, Clint probably would have just declared the day a loss and gone to bed.

He was scrubbing the last pan when he saw Bruce glance up from his computer toward the doorway. There was a gentle smile on his face. “Hi sweetie,” he said softly.

Clint turned and watched as Chrissie moved cautiously into the room, her face red and her eyes trained on the ground. She had changed into her pajamas and was staring down at her toes. 

Chrissie sniffled. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered, sounding on the verge of tears. 

Clint felt something in his chest hurt at the sound of her voice, but his eyes went to Bruce in time to catch the smile on his face soften even more. 

Bruce scooted his chair back a little and held out his arms. Chrissie immediately swept forward and latched onto her dad’s chest when he pulled her up into his lap. She sniffled again as Bruce held her close. “Thank you for apologizing, Chrissie,” Bruce said quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I know you must be frustrated that the snow hasn’t started yet, right?”

Chrissie nodded wordlessly into his chest. 

“That does sound very frustrating,” Bruce murmured in agreement, rocking gently back and forth. Clint wasn’t sure if Bruce was aware he was doing it. “Can I show you something?”

Clint didn’t see her give any sort of response, but Bruce must have. Bruce let one of his hands go to his laptop. After a few quick clicks, he glanced back down at his daughter. “See that?” he asked. 

As Chrissie hesitantly glanced at the computer screen Clint couldn’t see, Bruce pointed. “All of that pink stuff right there is ice, and all of the blue stuff here is snow.” Bruce must have had a weather map open. “And then…” His word dragged on as he clicked again. “See that? All of that snow will still be there tomorrow, _all_ the way through the morning and into the afternoon. Do you know what that means?”

A smile crept onto Bruce’s face as excitement slowly appeared on Chrissie’s. “That I’ll get to watch the snow tomorrow?” she asked.

“That’s right,” Bruce replied. “It isn’t supposed to stop snowing until after lunchtime, so you’ll get to watch the snow during breakfast and then _play_ in the snow while it’s still snowing.” 

Clint felt himself smile at the look of pure childish delight on Chrissie’s face. “Really?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes,” Bruce said, “but if you want to make the most of it, you need to get some sleep tonight, okay?”

Chrissie nodded and wrapped her arms around her father in a hug. Bruce held her a little tighter. There was a look of peaceful contentment on his face that made Clint’s heart melt. “I love you, Daddy,” she said into his neck.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” Bruce replied quietly. 

Well, now Clint was sure his heart was just a puddle of melted goo in his chest. He could feel the sappy smile on his face, but he couldn’t help it. There was warmth flooding through him at the sight of the two of them, caught up in a peaceful moment together in reconciliatory quiet. It was a sight to behold, one he could not recall ever experiencing in his own childhood, whenever he or Barney and their old man would get into arguments. 

Bruce pressed another kiss against the crown of her head. “Now go on and say goodnight to Clint and brush your teeth,” he murmured to his daughter, “and pick something for us to read.”

“Can Clint read with us?” she asked.

“You can ask him,” he replied. 

After Bruce had set her down, Chrissie circled the table and came into the kitchen. Clint wiped his hands dry in time for her to approach him with arms outstretched, a silent wish to be picked up. Clint obliged, lifting her up so she could wrap her arms around his neck. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” she apologized against his throat.

Clint felt himself smile and stole a glance across the room to Bruce. There was a smile on his face as he watched peacefully on, and he knew that Bruce was proud of Chrissie for apologizing without being asked to. He followed Bruce’s example. “Thank you for apologizing, kiddo,” Clint replied, returning her hug. “And of course I’ll read with you and your dad.”

Chrissie drew back to smile radiantly at Clint before she leaned in and pressed a kiss against his cheek. Clint felt himself start to grin happily and he kissed her temple before setting her down, watching as she took off out of the kitchen and down the hall to go brush her teeth. 

When the sound of the bathroom door closing reached them, Clint glanced over at Bruce just in time to see Bruce look over at him. They both immediately smiled and looked down, almost shy. Clint looked back and stared at his boyfriend, who just looked so happy that Clint couldn’t help the smile that bloomed across his face. “She’s a good kid,” he said.

Bruce met his eyes and smiled back. “She is,” he replied, quiet pride in his voice.

The sound of the toilet flushing brought Bruce to his feet. He held out a hand toward Clint and smiled.

Clint felt himself smile happily at the silent request and stepped out of the kitchen and into the dining room. He took Bruce’s hand in his, giving it a light squeeze as they started their way down the hallway toward Chrissie’s room.

==

“Good boy, Luck,” Clint murmured with a shiver as he came back inside, Lucky in tow. They both paused on the tile lining the small area around the downstairs sliding door to the backyard, both of them shaking off the loose bits of ice and sleet from their venture outside to let his dog do his business for the last time that night. 

Sniffling a little, Clint reached out to grab the towel Bruce had dubbed the unofficial dog towel. It made him smile, knowing that Bruce had designated things in his home to either him or his dog, knowing that they were both creating their own space in Bruce’s life. 

After drying Lucky’s coat and removing any stray mud from his paws, they both climbed the steps up to the kitchen. Only the light over the sink was on, giving the room a dimness that Clint had not experienced within this house. It was the nighttime he was not accustomed to within these walls, which was strange to think about. He had stayed later than this before, but it was always with the knowledge that he was going home at the end of the night. Now, with the kitchen light off and the dishwasher running, everything put away and ready for a new day, it was like a whole new experience. 

The addition of the water and food bowl on the floor only seemed to add to the surreal feeling flowing through Clint.

He followed Lucky past the dining room and into the living room, where the light was on and he heard movement. At the sight of Bruce putting the final touches on a makeshift dog bed, Clint felt his chest warm. This man…

Lucky strolled right up to Bruce, who paused in his work to give him loving scratches behind his ears. “I hope this is comfortable,” Bruce murmured to the dog softly.

A sappy smile spread across Clint’s face. This man…

Sensing he was being watched, Bruce glanced over his shoulder to find Clint staring at the scene before him. “I’m not sure how comfortable this will be,” Bruce said, sitting back, “but hopefully this is fine.”

“I don’t think you have to worry,” Clint said, nodding forward with a grin.

They both watched Lucky climb right into the bed and curl up.

A pleased smile found its way to Bruce’s face and he huffed a laugh. He gave Lucky another few pats before he pushed himself up to his feet. “How is it out there?”

“The sleet is picking up, but there’s still no snow,” Clint replied, pushing himself off of the doorframe. “It’s going to be a mess to clean up, though, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, I get the feeling that the university is going to be closed for the rest of the week,” Bruce said. He let one of his hands drift to Clint’s, letting their fingers interlace together. “I hope you’re okay to stay the next few days, because this neighborhood is usually one of the last ones to be plowed.”

Clint felt himself smile. The thought of spending the next few days with Bruce and Chrissie made him obtusely happy. “I’m happy to stay for as long as you’ll have me,” he said.

His words brought a light blush to Bruce’s cheeks and another pleased smile to his lips, and Clint couldn’t help but lean in to kiss them. One of them hummed happily and Clint wasn’t entirely sure who it came from, but he could hardly care. 

They broke apart and Bruce looked up at him, looking more happy than Clint had seem him all day. “Well then,” Bruce murmured softly, “let’s make sure you’re comfortable, too.”

They left Lucky in the living room to sleep and quietly made their way down the hall, past Chrissie’s room and toward the master bedroom. 

It was as they passed the threshold into the room that Clint suddenly realized he had never been inside or even seen this room before. The walls were white with the exception of the one that held the bed, which was an almost slate grey, a soothing mix of grey and blue. The bed itself was large with a fluffy deep blue comforter spread across the mattress, all cradled in a dark wood bedframe with a nice-sized headboard. Above the bed was a framed watercolor painting of a pathway through some trees and what looked like a small town off in the distance.

A glance around the room led to the discovery of bookcases. Clint was reminded of the first time he had come over and Chrissie had disclosed to him that Bruce had a lot of books, and looking around, he had to agree. Not all of the shelves were packed with books, however. There were a few that were half-full; after a bookend, there were framed photographs or odds-and-ends, likely from Bruce’s travels abroad. 

There was other furniture dotted throughout the room. On either side of the mattress hugging the wall were nightstands, each with its own lamp. The stand on the right had an old paperback upon it, but the other was clear. The dresser was the same dark wood as the bedframe and was home to a few other items: another picture frame, a few candles, other knick-knacks. There were a few other paintings and photographs hung throughout the room without seeming to clutter the walls.

Looking around, Clint wondered absently what Bruce must have thought of his own apartment. The whole room seemed to exude an atmosphere of maturity that made Clint feel a little inadequate, thinking of his own place. 

But it seemed so perfectly _Bruce_ that he couldn’t really help but adore it. 

When he realized he had been quiet for too long, he stole a quick glance at Bruce, who was eyeing his room like he had never seen it before. He looked nervous.

And suddenly Clint’s insecurities seemed to fly out the window. Bruce was no doubt finding all of the imperfections of this place that Clint was looking for in his own apartment the first time Bruce had come by. 

They really needed to stop second guessing themselves.

Clint smiled and gave Bruce’s hand a comforting squeeze. “This is nice,” he said. “I’m digging the purple pillow cases.”

A huff of laughter escaped from Bruce at that, but it looked like his nerves had settled a little. “I thought you’d get a kick out of that,” he said, turning a smile over at Clint as their hands came apart. “I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve been in here.”

“I mean, I guess with the rest of the house at our disposal, it just never came up,” Clint replied. He took another moment to look around as Bruce wandered toward the dresser. “We’re normally either in the living room or the den.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll be just as comfortable here as either of those rooms,” Bruce said. He returned with a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, which he handed to Clint. “Here you go. The bathroom’s over here.”

Clint followed Bruce deeper into the room. On the other side of the dresser was a door, which revealed a restroom. The first thing that jumped out at him was the shower curtain, which was a combination of brown and blue squares. The bath mat was a deep brown, as was the hand towel hanging up. 

“Oh, hang on,” Bruce said distractedly, “let me grab you a toothbrush.”

“Thank you,” Clint replied, watching Bruce disappear around the doorframe of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. 

After setting down the sleepwear on the counter, his eyes did another sweep of the room before he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. In the corner of his eye he caught sight of his other reflection from the mirror on the front of a medicine cabinet. Curiosity sparked within him and before he knew what he was doing, Clint had reached over and opened the cabinet just to see what was inside. 

At the sight of different prescription bottles, Clint felt his brow furrow. There were a few different ones, all orange and with the typical label, showcasing Bruce’s name and the other much longer name of the actual medicine. He didn’t recognize any of the medicinal names he could read from where he was standing, and he didn’t want to actually pick up and inspect the bottles more closely.

Suddenly feeling guilty for snooping, Clint closed the medicine cabinet and looked away from it, lest he give in to temptation to pry. 

At the sound of Bruce’s approaching footsteps, Clint perked back up and glanced over in time to see Bruce reappear. 

“Here we are,” Bruce said with a smile as he handed over a brand new toothbrush, still in its packaging. 

“Do you usually have extra toothbrushes stashed away?” Clint asked with a grin as he gratefully took the toothbrush. 

“You’d be surprised,” Bruce replied. When Clint quirked an eyebrow at him, he smiled. “The one thing Jen always forgets to bring with her on her visits is a toothbrush. She keeps saying she’ll remember the next time, but I’ve started keeping extras, just in case.”

“Smart move,” Clint said with another smile before he pulled the packaging off of the toothbrush.

Separately, they went about their nighttime rituals. Clint heard the sound of the pills rattling in their plastic bottles, but he didn’t say anything when Bruce had come back out of the bathroom. Honestly, he was distracted by the sight of Bruce dressed in soft and obviously well-loved sleep clothes. 

They both paused where they stood for a moment, watching each other. There was the sound of sleet hitting the window, but not much else. 

After another moment, Bruce glanced away almost shyly and huffed a laugh. “I, uh, should probably warn you,” he said as he moved toward the bed, which had Clint following, “I tend to get a little…um, _cozy_ in the night.”

Clint felt himself grin. “Then I should probably warn you that the same has been said about me,” he replied as they slipped under the covers. The bed was ridiculously comfortable…maybe just as comfortable as his own bed. “I’ve been told I’m a hardcore cuddler.”

Bruce smiled. “I guess we’ll find out,” he said.

“I’m telling you, I’m a force to be reckoned with,” Clint returned, beaming when Bruce laughed.

Bruce turned off the light and they both shifted until they were settled down on the mattress, lying down and facing each other. The curtains were not drawn, so the orange hue from the sky outside gave them just enough light to see by. 

They stayed like that for a long moment, just looking at each other in the dim light with the sounds of sleet and each other’s breathing filling the void between them. Clint listened to the ice hit the window and was taken back to when he was a boy, sitting up eagerly with his brother when a particularly bad snowstorm would hit his hometown with the eager anticipation that school would be cancelled. 

He smiled at the memory. “Did you get a lot of snow where you grew up?” he asked in a low voice.

“We got some when I still lived in Ohio,” Bruce replied quietly, “but after I moved to live with Jen and her family in California, not so much.”

“I guess you wouldn’t really get much in California,” Clint said, tucking that little tidbit about Bruce away in his mind. “We got a ton of snow in Iowa.”

Bruce smiled at that and shifted a little on the mattress, settling a little closer to Clint. “And what sort of trouble did you and your brother get into when it snowed?” he asked as his eyes drifted shut.

“Hey now,” Clint protested with a grin, but he found himself staring at Bruce instead of offering any sort of defense. It looked like the stressful day was catching up with him. 

Unable to help himself, Clint reach over and brushed back some of the errant curls that had fallen over Bruce’s forehead. Bruce’s eyes stayed shut, but a smile appeared on his lips and he scooted along the mattress a little closer. Clint felt himself smile and inched closer until their legs tangled under the covers. He let the hand that was still in Bruce’s hair drift further down until he was gently pulling Bruce closer still.

They settled when they were pressed together, with Bruce’s head tucked up under Clint’s chin and some of Bruce’s stray curls against Clint’s nose. One of Bruce’s arms had found its way over Clint’s side while Clint’s remained over Bruce’s arm, no longer pulling but merely resting there, each of them caught in the other’s loose embrace. 

Clint could feel Bruce smile against his chest. “This is nice,” Bruce murmured.

Another smile found its way to Clint’s lips and he pressed a gentle kiss against Bruce’s forehead before he let his eyes slip shut. “It really is,” he whispered back. “Good night, Bruce.”

“Good night, Clint,” Bruce replied in a sleepy whisper with a kiss against Clint’s chest. “Sleep well.”

And with the gentle sounds of the ice outside and the slow breathing of Bruce curled up against him, Clint let himself be lulled into a peaceful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I post updates on my fanfic writing tag on my [tumblr](http://www.trumpeteer34.tumblr.com), if you're interested in keeping tabs! Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
